Mass Effect: Escherian Era
by Akallas von Aerok
Summary: First Contact AU: What would you do if you find out that you were revived from death by moving your consciousness into a robotic body and then also learn that your descendants have established an interstellar empire that bows to no one? That's my situation right now. My name is David Escher Senior, and welcome to my rather turbulent second life.
1. Arc I: Waking Up

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Mass Effect or Rimworld. Only thing I own from this story is David Escher and other characters.**

* * *

I sat on my hospital bed, and honestly, I could call this bed mine.

I've been on it for the past decade or so, after all.

"Mr. Escher?"

I looked up and smiled at the nurse who had entered. "Hello again, Miss Ember," I greeted cordially. "How's the kids?"

"Oh, they're a handful," she sighed. "I mean, just yesterday..."

Small talks were the only things that got me going these days. I couldn't even play computer games because of how tired my hands, eyes, and arms were.

I'm old. So old.

"Any news from David and Daniel?"

I shook my head. "I told them not to worry about me. They have their own family and kids -teenagers- to worry about," I grouched though it was half-hearted at best. "... But I feel it coming."

"Mr. Escher, that is no way to talk about yourself!" the nurse scolded.

I simply smiled in return before turning my gaze out of my room's window.

"Ah... What I would give to run free once more before I go..." I muttered to myself.

* * *

My name is David Escher Sr. of the House of Allendale. The names don't match up right? That's because I had taken my mother's name after a lawsuit brought on my many-times removed relative sued me over a slight. What was I told to do? Nothing really. The asshole just wanted to prove a point by wasting his time and money. I won the court case by the way.

I didn't even bother to get myself a lawyer. I just researched the relative laws myself. I'm old. I have a lot of time. What the hell was I going to do outside of reading? Running? I lost my legs years ago in the war.

I just stood there in front of the judge and answered the questions. I won the case, and then changed my name.

Anyway, my name is David Escher Sr. I tend to ramble as you can see.

I was born 1915 to one Harold Beaumont and Susan Escher. Both were doctors, but I'm not. I liked guns and hunting a little too much.

World War II came calling on my doorstep, so I went out to fight for my Queen and country. I lost my right leg for my troubles. I did end up rather high on the ladder before I had been honorable discharged.

I ended up getting wooden prosthetic for my leg, but I always got phantom pains and aches.

It was during one of my visits to the hospital -to complain about the pain and get more pain meds- that I met my darling wife.

Miss Katerina Dimiyev, an artist, doctor, and entrepreneur from Iran -though her parents were Russian.

... Apparently, marrying her was the slight that Viscount Allendale's stupid youngest son needed to sue me. Seriously, what the fuck. I wanted to throttle the fucker, and I would have if it wasn't for my father and the Viscount himself.

She wasn't sweet or anything like that. She was fiery, outgoing, and loud. I loved her regardless.

...

She moved on before me. It's been a decade or so, I think.

We had four children together.

David Jr., Daniel, Dimitriv, and Regina.

David was a troubled and weak child, but he became a sturdy carpenter, so I don't worry about him anymore. I'm just sad that I couldn't attend his wedding; I was taken down by a sudden stroke, though apparently my last words before falling unconscious had been "Don't you dare not walk the aisle just cause of me!" He now has seven children. Yes, he is rather ... active. I wouldn't be surprised if the boy had several bastards too. I'd love them regardless.

Daniel was a calm child. The observant child. He's a chemist now, though he almost became a drug dealer a few years back after his girlfriend left him. He's not married, but he has a bastard that he adopted to his name. I don't know the mother, but Daniel assures me that the kid is his. I demanded a DNA test; the girl was his.

Dimitriv... We don't know where he is. After graduating college, he just disappeared from the radar. Poof. Gone.

Regina. The sweet youngest. She died in a car accident just before her high school graduation. I remember screaming to the heavens.

...

After sending all of my kids out to the world, my wife and I were struck by a disease of unknown origin and name. It killed her, but I lived.

Why didn't it take me as well?

...

But I know that my time has come. I can feel it.

...

Miss Ember, are you there?

...

I would like to have one last shot of whiskey before I go. I know, not exactly English of me, but I'd like it please.

...

Thank you.

...

Was it always this strong?

...

I feel good.

Fine, I feel well. Bloody nurse not letting me say what I want in my own death bed.

Ow! I'm a old man, don't hit me.

...

Anyway, who are you?

You just visited me, and I don't even know you, and ...

...

...

...

...

Dimitriv? Is that you? Where have you been?

...

You want my help?

...

Son, you've been watching too much TV.

Oh, well bloody bollocks from God's own ballsacks. Is that a metal hand? How does it move so fluid?

...

You want me to become a cyborg? Of course, I know what cyborg is. I've been sitting here with nothing to do but watch TV all day long for the past decade!

* * *

I woke up, though I had wished my son had failed.

I stared at the blue ceiling above me.

A monotonous voice called out to me.

"You are awake, sir."

Moving my arms behind me to support my effort, I slowly sat up. 'My arms no longer hurt. They work fine,' I thought to myself in the clinical fashion I normally reserved for my military days.

I stared at the owner of the voice and frowned.

"What the fuck are you?"

The being was of metal and light. It reminded me of those things that people used to talk about in the 70's and 80's. Not sure about afterwards because I was stuck in the hospital for _forever_ since then. Right, one of those robot things! Children's dream, really.

"I am an AI."

"... And that is?"

The robot bowed. "Please pardon my lack of explanation. I have received your data file only a few minutes ago, and my core processors are still working through them. Due to a lack of priority setting, I am going through your history first."

"...So like computer?"

"I am an Artificial Intelligence. I am a computer advanced enough to emulate the thought processes as well as emotional and physical responses that of a human being," it explained.

I nodded. "My son was working on something like that. Don't know if he finished."

"First CEO Dimitriv Escher did not complete Project FAI, but his grandson Alan Escher did."

I nodded. So my son is dead. It was kind of a dead give away when this AI told me that he couldn't finish. My Dimitriv wouldn't give up or stop something if he could still think and move at least one arm. This either meant my son was an armless, legless, and brain dead vegetable or dead. I think dead in this case is much better, even if I won't be able to see him anymore.

... Dimitriv also did tell me to prepare myself.

I looked at the AI robot in front of me. After all, last thing I was told before I woke up was that I will be put into a stasis.

* * *

Once I became more accustomed to my own body, I was allowed by the AI to walk around the facility.

The facility in question was one built underground in Wyoming, where land had been cheap as hell. According to the AI, it still was.

And no one checks for anything in Wyoming. What were you going to check? The toughness of the potato and the wheat? The lack of bisons? Yellowstone?

The facility also had numerous rooms. '201 rooms,' the AI interjected when I said as much.

What mattered to me the most was the following: bedrooms, information/entertainment center, and cafeteria.

I checked out what kind of a world I awoke to, and Dimitriv had been kind to me. Apparently, I've been dead for quite some time.

Yes, dead.

Stasis that I was talking about? That was only for my brain. The rest of my body was gone. So what was the body I wore?

Dimitriv had told me that if I were to ever wake up again, then my body would either be artifical or synthetic, like the ones told in sci-fi. Considering that my body at least looked human -even the junk was dangling down there-, I'd say I have a synthetic body.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. When I asked the AI about this, it told me that my body was made up of both synthetic and biotic parts. Most of the organs in my body cavity was synthetic, but the ribs, limbs, the head, and the junk -yes, even the junk- was biotic.

I was more metal than flesh. Go figure.

...

My "eyes" blinked when I realized that only a second had passed to process all of those information.

...

Blah, whatever. But one thing did get to me.

Subpar components.

The facility and its occupants -mostly other AI robots and myself- were all built in 2040 AD.

According to the computers with internet access in the entertainment room, the current year was 2691 AD, and a lot of shit had happened in between.

* * *

 **1951:** Revolutionary engineer and programmer Dimitriv Escher is born.

 **1951:** Cold War officially begins with the tension in Korean Peninsula and divided Germany.

 **1970:** Dimitriv Escher disappears from the radar, not to be seen until the early 21st century.

 **1989** : Brigadier David Escher Sr. is honorably discharged after his wife dies to an unknown disease. He survives.

 **1989:** Berlin Wall falls.

 **1995:** Brigadier David Escher Sr. dies.

 **2001:** Dimitriv Escher appears again to the world with a new technology, Plasma Manipulation. He starts the Noverheim Security Industry.

 **2007:** Noverheim Security Industry reaches the top 10 richest companies list.

 **2011:** NoSI starts to fund space exploration and colonization.

 **2014:** ISIS rises up in Iraq.

 **2019:** NoSI starts Project First Massively Populated Space Station (FMPSS) or Foomps.

 **2020:** After 6 years of fighting, majority of the ISIS territory has been retaken by their respective nation-states, and the last of its leadership is wiped out by USA bombings.

 **2024:** With the backing of UN for its effort in the ISIS war, Kurds are given their own nation state against the protest of Turkey, Iraq, and Syria. Measures are taken to ensure that no ethnical tensions will sprout inside this new Kurdish Republic by removing all non-Kurds. Drastic, but effective. Also highly controversial for centuries to come.

 **2030:** Project Foomps reaches conclusion, a 400 meter radius circular space station is established, housing 170 people, a world record. Attachments to Station Foomps is planned.

 **2037:** Due to NoSI's hereditary nature, the company is split into two companies upon the retirement of the 4th Hereditary President William David Escher. Noverheim Security Industry retained the factories and the contracts while the newly formed Escher Exploration Corps takes the space station and the rocket sites.

 **2070:** NoSI is hostilely taken over by UN, citing the need of need for aggressive space exploration and colonization.

 **2071:** North Korea finally collapses, and South Korea -having anticipated this- quickly moves in to take over. Unified Korean Republic is born.

 **2076:** A Russian billionaire establishes Yumandovrets Space Exploration Company. It quickly draws in attention from investors.

 **2081:** Escher Exploration Corps celebrates its second Hereditary President, John Williams Escher. His first order, lunar colonization.

 **2100:** North African Confederation is formed after countless attempts to enter EU failed for the north African states. Jordan and Syria joins. Saudia Arabia refuses to join.

 **2112:** Japan declares war on Unified Korean Republic. United States of America cannot side with either parties due to non-aggression pact with both.

 **2113:** People's Republic of China declares war on Japan, citing the defense of Korea.

 **2113:** USA jumps into defend Japan.

 **2113:** Russia, with the support of China, declares war on the East European nations, starting World War III.  World Population: 11 billion.

 **2113:** Escher Exploration Corps establishes its first lunar colony, and declares its an independent entity from all Earth nations. With a population of 12,000 and more incoming, Kingdom of Escher is the first hereditary nation established in nearly 150 years (last kingdom to have been formed was the Kingdom of Spain).

 **2120:** WW3 is still ongoing. Scientists from Kingdom of Escher completes a prototype space folding generator (SFG).

 **2121:** While SFG doesn't make FTL possible, it does help the discovery of space expansion technology. Doctor Who fans are ecstatic, regardless of nationality.

 **2123:** World War III ends in white peace.  World population: 10 billion.

 **2124:** Using space expansion technology, artificial gravity is generated by "capturing" numerous asteroids into the expanded bubble beneath the Kingdom of Escher's territory. This becomes the first true "artificial gravity field generator."

 **2129:** Like all things, risk exists. One stupid man decides to shove in as much as he can into his private asteroid home using SFG, and finds out that "oh, too much mass in a tiny space makes black hole." The black hole collapses after five months, but it did generate enough gravity to fling a few asteroids out of the system.

 **2135:** Kingdom of Escher, now a nation with the population of 409,000, receives an ultimatum from several Earth states. "Return our political refugees." The kingdom refuses.

 **2137** : Kingdom of Escher develops the first true commercial space ship. It is 100 meters long, 20 meters wide, and 9 meters tall. It is also capable of travelling from the orbit of Earth to surface of Luna in the span of 17 hours.

 **2138:** Kingdom of Escher's military, the Escher Imperial Navy, announces the first spacefaring warship, the EscherI-class warship. Classified as a frigate, EscherI-class warships are 250 meters long, 70 meters wide, and 16 meters tall. It possess 6 railgun turrets, each capable of accelerating their projectiles to 0.0001% of the speed of light in a single second.

 **2154:** Japan declares war on the Kingdom of Escher. The Kingdom responds by orbital bombarding most of their military establishment.

 **2154:** Seeing the collapse of Japan's military, Russia, Korea, and China all declare war on Japan.

 **2155:** Despite militia forces' defenses, Japan's emperor surrenders. Hokkaido and Northern Honshu goes to Russia, Central and Southern Honshu including now desolate Tokyo, goes to Korea, and Kyushu and Shikoku goes to China.

 **2160** : UN is declared useless.

 **2165:** Canada, Mexico, and USA joins into North American Federation for multiple reasons including but not limited to similar culture, mutual interest, similar government structure, demands of the people, and so on.

 **2146:** North American Federation announces its own warship: the Jackson-class frigate. It is smaller and possesses less railguns, but each railgun can fire heavier rounds. The ship, however, is slower in speed and acceleration.

 **2190:** Kingdom of Escher announces successful colonization of Mars. Most nations are shocked by the news as there hadn't been any announcement regarding Mars colonization attempt beforehand.

 **2194:** Kingdom of Escher moves most of its Kingdom to Mars. SFG tech is used to give Kingdom of Escher's territory on Mars 1.2G. Terraformation of Mars begins.

 **2200:** North American Federation buys the lunar colony from Kingdom of Escher, but not the tech or the people, as they found out later.

 **2209:** Prothean ruins are found. Data within is corrupted. Existence of extraterrestrial life has been confirmed.

 **2214:** Most nations capable of doing so launch their own space station. Kingdom of Escher removes the Foomps Station, dragging it into orbit of Mars after five months of work.

 **2222:** NAF establishes a colony on Titan and then on Europa.

 **2236:** Russia and China announce their own warship, the Evansky-Jeong-class heavy frigate. It is 300 meters long, 80 meters wide, and 20 meters tall.

 **2243:** Russia attempts to illegally colonize Mars. Kingdom of Escher arrests the colonists and removes colony. Russia declares war. First Solar War begins.

 **2243:** Start of war numbers- Russia: 5 million troops (active + reserve), 14 Evansky-Jeong-class heavy frigate  
Escher: 1 million troops (active + reserve), 30 EscherI-class frigate

 **2244:** Russia's central war doctrine was to land as much troops as possible to overwhelm the Kingdom's defenses. Their surprise attack is scrambled when fifty or so Surface to Orbit Railguns pop up all over the Kingdom's territory on Mars and lays waste to most of the troop transports. Russia responds to this counterattack by orbital bombarding cities. While effective at wiping out civilians, it did little to hurt military capabilities. This attack also earned Russia ire of the international community.

 **2244:** Tables are turned. Russia is defending. To everyone's surprise, Russia manages to defend itself well from orbital superiority.

 **2245:** White peace treaty is signed. Escher had no troops to attack Russia with and Russia had no space ships to attack Escher with.

 **2300:** Colonies of Titan and Europa declare independence. NAF sends subjugation forces, but the two moons had been buying light frigates (EscherII-class) from Escher for decades. Second Solar War begins.

 **2301:** Pirates become a problem. Kingdom of Escher pushes over half of its forces into pirate extermination.

 **2309:** Second Solar War ends in surrender of the colonies. This marks the start of Anti-Earth behaviors in outer colonies.

 **2350:** Solar System populations: Earth 33.1 billion, Luna 0.3 billion, Mars(+moons) 8.2 billion, Asteroid belt colonies 0.5 billion, Jupiter's moons 0.6 billion, and Saturn's moons 0.2 billion.

 **2404:** Charon Relay is found. Kingdom of Escher is the first to respond and send exploration teams through it after realizing that it is a transportation device similar to theorized "slingshot" FTL stations. On the other side was the Arcturus System. Mass colonization begins... Or would've.

 **2404:** Kingdom of Escher seizes Charon Relay before any other nation while sending its exploration teams, and prevent any other nations' fleets from going thorugh, even independent colonizers and civilian explorers.

 **2407:** Resentment over Charon Seizure sparks Third Solar War with surprising initial events. The Outer Colonies join Escher, who promised them independence. Only Luna and Earth stands against Escher.

 **2408:** Nuclear warheads are deployed, and one of them wipes out Mars' second biggest city, culling over 200 million people. Other warheads detonate in Martian atmosphere, contaminating the planet with radioactive atmosphere for a decade to come.

 **2408:** Escher responds to this in rage by _dusting_ the entire Lunar colony with orbital strikes. Escher also announces in the middle of battle their new warship, Toman-class cruiser, a warship quadruple of a EscherI frigate's firepower, twice its toughness, twice the frigate's length, and only two times as expensive to make.

 **2411:** Third Solar War (the last of its kind) ends in Escher victory. The Kingdom of Escher, with its 250 warships compared to the rest of human civilization's remaining 30, establishes that Earth's nations can only colonize one planet per three colonies the Kingdom of Escher makes. The Outer Colonies are granted independence and granted the right to colonize in equal ratio to the Kingdom. This comes to be known as the Restriction Doctrine. The Lunar Peace Treaty also establishes the Rogue Doctrine, which declares that unauthorized rogue colonies will be forced to submit to Kingdom of Escher's rule or be evicted. Total human population: 47 billion.

 **2420:** Nations of Earth and newly established Lunar colony come together willingly (read: mandatory) to form the Systems Alliance to form a counter balance to Kingdom of Escher.

 **2464:** Kingdom of Escher's first succession crisis. A brief civil war breaks out, but lasts only 5 months. The heir of the throne, a mad man, is executed for crimes against humanity, and his younger sister, Elizabeth Jeoul Escher, Duchess of Syrtis Province (Syrtis Major Planum), takes the throne of the Kingdom of Escher.

 **2464~2491:** Under Queen Elizabeth's rule, the Kingdom of Escher seeks to improve relations with Systems Alliance, Outer Colonies, and Relay Colonies. Due to her charisma and attractive TV personality (not to mention her beauty), she is mostly successful.

 **2550:** The human systems are divided into sectors. The Core Worlds (16 systems), Inner Sector (30 systems), and Rimworlds (50? systems).

 **2562:** Anti-Escher terrorists kill Crown Prince Yusef in his birthday celebration. There would have been war with System Alliance had it not been for Elizabeth II, Yusef's eldest daughter and now Crown Princess of the Kingdom, calm the people and its leaders down by declaring that her father would not have wanted a war of revenge. Later that year, Crown Princess Elizabeth II receives the kingdom's most prestigious award, Queen Elizabeth I's Award of Peace.

 **2580:** A rogue rimworld colony establishes itself as its own republic outside of Escher's rule. To almost everyone's surprise, Queen Elizabeth II agrees to acknowledge the new republic -Republic of Ohulsuiv- as a sovereign entity if it follows the Restriction Doctrine. The Republic agrees, just happy to avoid a war.

 **2584:** Another rogue colony attempts to do the same in the Inner Sector, but they were brutally beat down by the Kingdom's Imperial Navy.

 **2585~2600:** Core Worlds population boom.

 **2600:** The Kingdom of Escher officially changes it title to Escherian Empire.

 **2628:** A colony legally exits the empire in the Rimworlds, forming the Dogavan Republic.

 **2630:** AI experiment gone wrong starts the Mechanoid War.

 **2644:** Mechanoid War is officially over with the help of TC's, or Transferred Consciousness. AI's are put on restricted but TC's are not. Total human population (including TC): 91 billion.

 **2679:** System Alliance colony on Shanxi is attacked by extraterrestrial forces. The Escherian Empire sends a fleet of 300 warships to assist just as 400 of the extraterrestrial warships arrive through the Shanxi Relay. Battle ensues. Midway into battle, System Alliance fleet of 270 warships enter, and pushes the alien fleet out of the system. But the losses were significant for the victorious humans; more than 200 warships had been lost to destroy 300 of the alien's.

 **2679:** Citadel Council, an entity that controls half of the galactic Relays initiates contact with the two human sovereign states on behalf of the attacker, the Turian Hierarchy. Peace is established, and an offer to join the galactic community is given. Escherian Empire, whose population is nearly matches that of the entire Citadel Council, refuses while the System Alliance joins. Republic of Ohulsuiv, Outer Colony Confederation, and Dogavan Republic stays out of the Citadel Council along with Escherian Empire.

Current Human Sovereign States (no vassals): System Alliance, Escherian Empire, Republic of Ohulsuiv, Outer Colony Confederation, Dogavan Republic.

* * *

So yeah, a lot of shit had happened.

"... How the hell am I going to fit into this new world," I grumbled as I cupped my face in my hands.

"Your bank account current holds 19 billion Interstellar Currency Credits and you hold over 13 different planets under your name."

I blinked, lifted my head up, and stared at the AI.

"Wut."

"While you were deceased, your account has bee kept in use by your family. While the family no longer uses it due to the status of the Escherian Empire, the account is still active and under your name. Due to your recent TC experience, the account has now been locked. This has also alerted the Escherian Royal Family to our status, and I have been contacted."

"...And you tell me this now?"

"You were busy reading."

"Son of a -!"


	2. Arc I: Hoodwinked

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect franchise nor do I own Rimworld and the mods people make.**

* * *

So while the alert was sent to the Escherian Royal Family -who were probably now sending someone to grab me-, I began to read more up about the situation of the galaxy in general.

As a military man, it was kind of natural for me to focus on the military aspect of each individual "empires" first.

Escherian Empire possessed 50 million active troops and thrice that in reserve. This was 3/4 that of the Turian Hierarchy alone and twice that of the Systems Alliance. Salarian Union and Asari Republics didn't even have a combined total of 10 million, but the "codex" regarding their races talked about the latter two species holding more PMC's as their main security. To me, this talked about how fragmented the two societies were. A lot of people possessing PMCs, or Private Military Companies, meant that the governments were extremely decentralized. If I add the PMCs to each empire's roster, then the Salarians possess 7 million and Asaris possess 21 million.

The rest were either irrelevant or too far like the Terminus Systems, which was at war with each other anyway.

Yeah, those Asari? Extremely decentralized.

Onto spacefaring warships. The Escherian Empire held 1,490 frigate and variants, 500 cruisers and variants, 30 battleship/dreadnoughts and variants, and 4 titans. Numerically, the Citadel Council outnumbered the empire thrice over (would've been 2.5 times but the System Alliance joined the Council, bumping that number to 3.2 times). On top of that, the improved Mass Effect Faster-Than-Light propulsions allowed for the Citadel Council and now Systems Alliance to travel faster than imperial forces, while the imperial forces were stuck with their own stargate designs; imperial stargates couldn't do trans-galactic jumps and were limited to system-to-system transportation. The empire, however, did have stargates in all of its territories, so those were no biggie.

Unfortunately, the Citadel Council and the Systems Alliance both lacked Titans.

Introduced just before the Shanxi Relay Incident and the subsequent First Contact Battles, Titan-class warships were several kilometers in length. The biggest of them of all was a 5 kilometer monster by the name of _Blessing of the Empire_. While it didn't have a spinal railgun or spinal plasma thrower to match its size, it instead had multiple "Siege Turrets." In essence, Siege Turrets were rotating, shielded, and more versatile version of ship spinal weaponry and these titans had at minimum 4 on each broadside and a maximum of 10.

Enemy ships coming in mass? Fire the broadside. That didn't stop them? Turn around and fire the other broadside.

But the best aspect of the Titans was the fact that they did not use Mass Effect technology. To withstand the hull, they employed a technology called "Inertia Negation Device," or IND. The intricacies of the device escaped me, but I understood the gist of it. Whereas in physical space, the shock of sudden movement would "attack" the area of weakest structure, the device envelopes the spaceship and _turns the bubble of space_. This device was also used for FTL, though it falls behind the Mass Effect drives in speed.

However, the Escherian Empire struggled to expand. Beyond the scrutiny of the galactic community for not joining the Citadel Council, the size of the Imperial Fleet was too small to expand whereas the Citadel Council had more than enough ships to secure new colony protections beyond their borders. I suspect that soon or later, the empire will have to start building high rather than spread low. Or they can just mass produce ships. Who knows.

Economically... now that was a disaster.

The empire had outright rejected the usage of Citadel Credits in their space. It wasn't banned, but it was highly regulated, taxed, and frowned upon by the locals. For some reason though, there were no such rejection against alien goods and services. Politic tensions also made trade harder and thus discouraged. The empire was essentially closing up. They hadn't yet, but the signs were there.

That was a no go in my opinion. Closed economies didn't suffer from any external shocks, but internal affairs affected them much more severely. On top of that, closed economies usually also closed their doors to immigrants. No influx of people meant no communication beyond the diplomatic channels, and no communication meant useless and harmful prejudices form. It's all in history.

But I am neither the policymaker of the empire nor its emperor. I had no power.

...

I suppose the blue alien porn describes current society enough; nothing's really changed. Oh, I'm sure there are now more xenophobia -and xenophilia-, but those are merely the surface of the society. If xenophobia was truly entrenched within human societies, the mere appearance of blue alien porn would've been attacked and torn down in mere days.

The number of editions and the popularity of this ... "Fornax" magazine pretty much said "sex is better than racism."

I scoffed.

Once my overview of the world was complete, I looked at my own bank account. That was a hefty sum in there.

13 planets that the AI had mentioned to be were all in the Rimworlds. None of them were developed yet, though the bank account does state that-.

...

..

...

No, no, no! Stop, stop, stop!

I brought back the Codex up on the computer (a really thin computer at that. The wonders of technology). I read through the entire codex again, and my instinct screamed at me.

I shouted.

"BULLSHIT."

In my time outside of the military, I had forgotten one crucial fact: war's first rule of combat.

Deception.

The Escherian Royal Family was the ruling elite of the galaxy, if the codex was true. But what if the codex is false? An _empire_ has no need for Citadel Council and the like. An _empire_ would strike at the heart of another nation before they could become a threat!

An _empire_ would not sit around doing nothing for nearly a hundred years after a whole new frontier was found!

The codex was nothing but a piece of propaganda. It made the Escherian Empire look big. It made the Escherian Empire look benevolent. It made an _empire_ look friendly.

An empire is _never_ friendly. It is a law of human nature and its construct, human society. Growing big seems hard, but once you reach that peak, you will have to pay hell to stay there. It makes no sense for an empire to do nothing. War? That is the essence of humanity! A peaceful empire? That's a dead empire!

Roman Empire never stopped growing. They were either expanding or they were falling back. The moment the Qing took a bullet from the British, that was the start of their downfall. The British Empire did not remain the #1; they grew weak.

"1 hour, sir."

I snapped up, my eyes wide. "Already?" I asked the robot.

The robot "blinked" at me with its tiny blue eyes. "You've been reading for the past ten hours, sir."

I blinked this time. "...Huh. Okay, who are they sending? Can you find out?" I asked.

"No."

"Well, crap."

I scratched the back of my head. "... Is there an armory here?"

* * *

I know that pointing a gun at your family is one of the heinous crimes. My intention was survival.

My logic went like this:

The Escherian Empire's Royal Family were enjoying their day when suddenly, an alarm blares and they get a message saying that one of their main financial accounts have been taken from them by an unknown figure.

Now, if I was part of the ruling family -or even its leader-, I would be sending in troops to find whoever the fucker took my money.

I was that fucker.

Whoever they were sending, I was 100% sure that it would involve guns. Lots of guns. Hell, they might not even bother to arrest me. They could just throw a couple of orbital strikes, and this entire base would be done for (I assumed).

"I advise against this," the robot said monotonously.

"Yeah well, I disagree," I replied as I ran my fingers over an unfamiliar weapon, but from what I read about its specs, it was my weapon of choice. It was a purple and grey meter long weapon called "Atrocity" Storm Cannon. Supposedly created by a long gone specialist weapons industry called "Tisiphone Enterprise," its dinosaur shaped muzzle fired kinetic energy shells -or as I called them "kinetic jellies" right off the bat- that exploded upon an object, delivering kinetic -not explosive!- damage. A cool design, apaprently made specifically to hunt down a rogue Systems Alliance military branch called "Peacekeepers," and it was perfect for my situation.

The halls in this base were not very wide. Fit four of me side by side, and it would be blocked. The "Atrocity" was perfect for such situation because it fired highly accurate semi-automatic bursts of rounds. I would be mowing down anything that came through the central hallway.

The armor I wore, on the other hand, was less than adequate. It was a simple bulletproof vest and a tactical helmet to allow for thermal and night vision.

Man, this base had been stacked!

I quickly made my way to the hallway and waited just out of sight.

"...Hello, is the director of the base still here?"

That was new. A friendly approach to a thief (though I wasn't a thief)?

"Yes."

... That robot was a director?

"Ah!" the new voice exclaimed. it sounded extremely friendly and even glad. "The empire didn't even know that this base was still operational. I apologize on behalf of the empire. It must have been extremely hard to maintain the place."

"There were enough weapons to break apart to provide the necessary raw materials for maintenance."

"I see. Well, one of the older protocols were reactivated, and I was sent here to find out why. Most of our empire's earlier documents were lost in the Third Solar War-"

Told ya there was something off about that codex! You don't lose important documents on something like this base if you weren't struggling in your war!

"I see." Oh I missed out on their conversation. "Brigadier was extremely paranoid about your arrival. He expected soldiers would be here to arrest him."

"...Brigadier? I'm sorry, but I do not know anyone by that name. As I've said, most of the documents were lost, and I was only alerted to come here because I was the closest imperial representative on Earth."

... So they sent me a paper pusher?

I peeked over the corner, and indeed saw that the man was alone.

Wait, did they have stealth technology? If they did, then this guy could just be talking casually to throw me off!

But I didn't read anything about something like that on the codex -from all races- so I assumed ... no.

With a deep intake of breath, I stepped out of the corner.

The man saw me, and squeaked. "I've come peacefully!" the man quickly capitulated by throwing his hands up.

"Who is this man?" I asked the robot.

"Accessing the internet. Requesting permission. Data accessed. Brigadier, this is Diplomat Anthony F'varka of the Escherian Imperial Diplomat Society. He is the Escherian diplomat to Systems Alliance."

"A-And who is this?" Mr. F'varka asked nervously. He obviously did not like the sight of guns. Hell, I wasn't even pointing it at him!

"This is Subject 3 of Project TCNR. His full name is Brigadier David Escher Senior of the British Army. He is the ancestor to the current Escherian Dynasty. He has been recently resurrected from inactivity."

The man suddenly glared at the robot. "It is against the imperial law for a man to take on the Escher royal family name without the imperial permission!" he barked. I would guess that this was his diplomat mode. Assertive, loud, and stickler for laws.

"Transferring data. Transfer complete. Gaining permission. Permission granted. The Escherian Royal Family would like Diplomat F'Varka to bring Brigadier David Escher Senior to the capital city on Mars."

I swore that day that I've never seen a man fall faster to his knees than this man.

Were the robot's words that trustworthy?

"M-My lord, we should get moving. The royal family should not be kept waiting, s-sir."

... This man must have some kind of bipolar disorder. That had to be the answer to his constantly changing behavior and attitude.

I turned to the robot for a second before I realized that I've never asked its name.

"What's your name, robot?"

There was a pause in the robot, and the diplomat glanced up briefly to the AI.

"As dictated by Dimitriv Escher on Project FAI, CEO Alan Escher named me Katerina upon my completion."

* * *

Spaceflight is ... nerve wrecking.

The entire ship shuddered as we passed through the atmosphere.

Holy shit, I never though I would become an astronaut.

There was one last quiet shudder, and we were clear.

I looked out of the ship that we were in, and my eyes brightened in wonder. I knew they had; I had a window in front of me showing me exactly what I looked like. Though the rest of my face hadn't moved, my eyes had.

The stars. They were brighter than I've ever seen on land or sea. Even on that clearest day when I married Katerina, the stars weren't this bright. They simply were never this _clear_.

"I really am in space, aren't I?" I muttered to myself as I let myself relax into my seat.

Upon learning that I was an Escher, or as one of the less than subtle servicewoman nicknamed me 'father of _the_ Escher,' I was given the most luxurious transportation immediately available, an escorted luxury frigate filled with generals, celebrities, and other statesmen going from Earth to Mars for whatever their business.

Hell, the entire ship was painted lavishly in gold. You don't get more luxurious than that.

As for my seat, it was in a "Royal Suite" that was reserved for only the royal family. It was fifteen meters long, twice as wide, and half as tall. This room, just like the ship, had been painted in gold, though more sparingly this time, and the ceiling had been replaced with reinforced glass and shielding to provide the suite user the entire view of the universe.

"Definitely in space," I muttered as I stared up.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

There was a soft wheeze as the automatic doors of the suite opened up, and a woman walked in. I looked over her once from the corner of my eyes before staring up again. She was a woman of about 170 centimeters, and had the figure similar to that of athletes, but with scars of combat on her. She didn't move like one, though. The way her legs crisscrossed silently yet precisely was the walk of a predator. She reminded me of intelligence officers, spies, and their ilk, aka bad news. Did the royal family send her to verify my "claim"?

"Prince David Escher, it is an honor to meet you."

I sighed. So that's how she was going to play it? Approach me from "we've already accepted you" angle so that I may spill the beans? Except there were no beans to spill, so ha! Jokes on you.

With a deep breath, I slowly stood up from my seat (another luxurious designer chair, I assumed, with lynx fur coat), and turned to face her.

She was kneeling before me.

"Stand and be at ease, soldier," I commanded. She was calling me a prince, so I may as well let my military side work this out.

She stood up and relaxed, though she didn't completely relax. Good. A good soldier must always be prepared.

"His Highness, Emperor Dimitriv the Third would like to extend you an invitation, my lord," she reported.

I merely raised an eyebrow. "... Come, take a seat," I told her as I sat back down on my chair while gesturing to the other chair across from me. "And tell me what my descendants want to say to me."

* * *

Her name was Baron Samantha de Olavie of the Barony of New Prague, Mars. She was a twenty-seven year old woman with two children, a loving husband, and a happy life. She had been on her well-earned vacation from the Escherian Intelligence Security Corps with her family when she got a call from the _Olympus Palace_ , the royal court of the Escherian Empire.

She freaked out. Her family freaked out. The person on other side of her phone freaked out.

When they all gathered their wits together, she was notified of an emergency situation and had been explained to her in full of the Project TCNR.

She almost freaked out again.

Revival of an ancient Escher from before the Third Solar War? A man whose designation was to be _Prince_?

Never did she have the honor of meeting someone so close to the royal family. Never did anyone in her family in the past five generation get close to even shake the hands of the benevolent royal family.

Of course, being an intelligence officer, she knew the more seedier side of the royal court, but most of the royal family turned out alright in her modest opinion.

When she got to asking what kind of a man this new prince was, she felt excitement.

Brigadier David Escher Senior. Father of the Founding Escher, Dimitriv Escher and the "Blood Carver" Escher of World War II. One of the most successful military careers she had ever seen -and a dramatic rise in the ranks during the war- but his disability took out of office. She was excited to meet the man who raised the Great Escher. She had so many questions, too!

Alas, it would have to wait. She had her duty.

She stood before the Royal Suite, checked herself once over, and knocked with her knuckles. A very common gesture and one that should be familiar to a formerly dead man.

"Come in."

She walked in, and froze.

She didn't know what it was, but the moment she stepped into the room, she realized that she had been judged on the spot. It was like a chill that went through her, a tattletale sign of a passive scan.

"Prince David Escher, it is an honor to meet you," she said as she knelt before the man. Even if the man was facing her, protocols were to be observed.

There was a grunt, and she saw the prince's feet.

The prince's gruff voice spoke up. "Stand and be at ease, soldier."

She gulped and did so. As her eyes landed on the prince, she stilled them to prevent herself from looking obtrusive or rude by running her eyes over her superior.

A sigh.

There was a pause. She decided to speak. "His Highness Emperor Dimitriv the Third would like to extend you an invitation, my lord."

He didn't even flinch. He just hummed before sitting back down and gestured to the seat in front of him. "Come, take a seat," he commanded, and she obeyed. "And tell me what my descendants want to say to me."

She sat down the chair and pulled up several files from her omnitool.

The prince gazed curiously at her device.

"My lord...?"

The man smiled. "Just seeing the wonders of the future, Miss...?"

"De Olavie, sir. Lieutenant Samantha de Olavie."

He nodded in appreciation. "Good to meet you, Lieutenant de Olavie. Now, what are these files for?" he asked as she displayed the files on the Royal Suite's hologram screen. She had been just told about the hologram screen in the suite before her entry and where it was as to make her presentation look natural.

"The first is an invitation from the emperor, my lord," she replied as she pulled up the first file. "During the Second Solar War, we lost information and location of Project TCNR's base and its director was cut off from communication. The empire has tried to find the base in the past, but we were unsuccessful. Third Solar War further prevented our access to North America, where we had suspected the location of the base to be. His Highness extends an apology regarding this."

The prince nodded along. "Okay. And why is he apologizing?"

"The emperor states that he personally feels responsibility over the loss of possession of the base and project as it was something close to a family heirloom."

"...I was a family heirloom?"

"So the emperor states, sir."

He barked out a laugh. "Interesting, interesting. Do go on."

She briefly glanced at his features, and was confused. Most people would be enraged or confused by events that were out of their hands, but this prince seemed to be experiencing neither of those. Was it a product of shock that the man must still be going through from and since his revival?

"The invitation is from the emperor for you to officially join the Royal Escherian Family. However, should you disregard this invitation, the emperor and the royal family will not hold it against you."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's rather generous of them, inviting a total stranger to their family."

"The emperor has told me that it was a long standing tradition to invite any Escher born out of wedlock or lost generations back into the family."

"You mean bastards and exiles should they prove to be useful."

"..."

"Alright, let's move on. Now, why is he inviting me though? I am, after all, just an old relic of the past."

"I do not know the emperor's wishes, my lord."

"Okay then. What are the rest of these files?"

She pulled the second file. Unlike the first, this was particularly more fancy.

"This is your citizenship of the Escherian Empire, my lord. The royal family has always kept one on hand for you."

"Ho ho. Was that something Dimitriv set into motion?"

"Yes, sir. Founder Dimitriv was very adamant about returning you to the living world." She glanced at him again to study his features. There was nothing she could read. A perfect poker face, even if it was a smiling poker face.

"And the last file?"

"A list of responsibilities you will have to accept with the inheritance of the Third Royal Escherian Account."

He blinked. "That's the bank account I got access to the moment I woke up, right?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Responsibilities?"

"The Third Royal Escherian Account has always been associated with you. However, in the recent years, it has been tied to imperial assets out in the rimworlds. Edicts have been made over the years to this account so that whoever inherits the account has to take over the responsibilities of the rimworlds as well."

"... Oh, I get it. The royal family wants to turn me into a manager for their rimworld affairs, eh?"

No, he doesn't unders-

"But it also doesn't make any sense. After all, you lot could've just taken the bloody account from me without looking back. Either the royal family really cares for me, or I am a convenient newcomer. At this point, I can't quite decide which it is. If they really care for me, they would've sent one of them, but the fact that they sent you instead of coming themselves means that ... no, they care for me not very much.

"On the other hand, I am a useful Escher. The offer to join the family said as much. So what's out in the rimworlds that they want a member of the royal family to take care of it without using their own subordinates?"

"... You are extremely sharp, sir. Just as history describes you."

"Oh? How does history view me?" he asked. For the first time, he looked nervous about that.

"... 'Blood Carver' Escher."

The man blinked. "Huh. I guess my books weren't great?"

"You wrote books, sir?"

He laughed again.

* * *

I decided to accept the offer. At the least, it would give me something to worry about, and I'd rather not be a vagabond.

The first responsibilities that I was given -by inheritance, but was it really an inheritance when it was mine originally?- was the development of the rimworlds.

Due to the empire's inability to expand outward, there was now a need for the empire to grow tall. The unattended rimworlds were the perfect solution to the empire's needs. I just happened to have jumped in when the preparations for such colonization and infrastructure building were completed. While this was good for me, the royal family didn't quite trust me and had attached Lieutenant de Olavie and her entire family as my observer.

I didn't mind.

The second responsibility was border patrol.

Even though these rimworlds were not close to any mass relays, there were still stargates that imperial vessels could use, and thus empire-based pirates and warlords were capable of attacking the rimworlds. My job was to ensure the safety of the rimworld colonies while driving out these pirates. But if I knew anything about pirates from history, they were going to be pain in the ass to wipe out.

But before all of this, I was to meet my new family.

Descendants.

Whatever.

As I stepped off of the golden frigate, I was met with a city of splendor.

Towers rose high into the sky of many designs, amusement parks dotted the cityscape, and the streets were clean. The clothes were exquisite and there were aliens!

"This way, my lord," Lieutenant de Olavie spoke as she gestured towards the biggest building in the city.

"I assume ... that's the palace."

"Yes, sir. That is the Olympus Palace, the royal court of the Escherian Empire."

I nodded. "What's with the skulls?"

The lieutenant giggled, and that was fine, even for a military officer. I did tell her to relax around me, considering how we were going to working together for a long time.

"It was the work of King Dimitriv the Second, the current emperor's grandfather. He had fascination for skulls and bones."

"...Huh." What else could I say? Everyone has their own likes and fetishes. "And gold?"

"That would be the current emperor. In the last interview regarding his expensive taste, he has merely stated that he likes the glitter."

"Of gold? An expensive taste, indeed," I muttered as we walked on.

No one gave us so much as a glance. They were all busy on their own business. This city, Olympus City, was like London back in the day except there were much more skyscrapers and spaceships.

Then someone bumped into me.

"Watch where you're going!" the lieutenant barked sharply at the boy.

I blinked and looked down.

The boy, assuming he was the one who had bumped into me, was on the floor, nursing his arm. He looked to be in middle school age and wore ragged clothes.

"You alright, son?" I asked the boy.

"Nothing wrong, sir," he muttered quickly and walked away.

I frowned and looked to de Olavie. "What's the scaring for?"

She stood stock still at my disapproving voice. "He was just a street rat, my lord," she replied easily enough. "I had my fair share of them stealing my chits, sir."

"Good thing I had nothing one me," I rolled my eyes. "At ease. You don't have to go full out military in the middle of the street."

"... Okay, sir."

"Now, tell me more about the emperor."

"Emperor Dimitriv the Third is known by the imperial citizen as the lover of medicine. Besides few individuals, he funds the highest number of public hospitals, medical missionaries, and medical researches. His hobby is sculpting."

"Sculpting?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is he any good?"

"There are several in the royal exhibition-"

"Your personal opinion, please."

"... His tastes are too archaic for my taste, sir."

"Hmm?"

"He follows the Greco-Roman style of sculpting, and has garnered disapproval of some of the imperial nobles."

I nodded along, but I was thinking again. Was there was an anti-Earth sentiment in the empire? I did read that the Outer Colonies, now the Outer Colony Confederation, began the anti-Earth sentiments and that it never ended. No terrorism regarding it has happened, but it could just be that anti-Earth sentiment was something shimmering underneath the surface.

If I was a member of the empire, why would I hate Earth? I suppose Systems Alliance -and therefore Earth- joining the Citadel Council was kind of like them abandoning the rest of humanity. Yes, that could be it. On the other hand, it could just be the resentment from the Third Solar War carrying over. But that makes no sense because the empire has improved relationship with Earth and its colonies for a long time since then. On top of that, the empire has sent a fleet in the defense of a Systems Alliance colony. That should've made both sides very happy with each other. Brothers-in-arms and all that.

...

Did the effect of Systems Alliance leaving imperial influence the cause of this then? Was it so profound that when a military personnel would speak so angrily about it at ease?

"Did something happen with you and the alliance?" I asked.

"... My brother died over Shanxi."

"Sorry for bringing it up," I replied sincerely.

She just frowned. "It happens to all of us. The Alliance decided to ignore our sacrifice and joined the very xenos that killed our people," she bit out. "Most of the empire and a lot of the Alliance citizens are not happy with that decision."

I nodded. I could understand that sentiment. A lot of the French I met during and after World War II were like that about their Vichy France. It was a spit to the face of sacrifice made by their protectors. Their valiant soldiers.

As a soldier myself, I could agree, but I was a general before my forced retirement. I knew what the Systems Alliance politicians must have been thinking. They saw Citadel Council as a way to finally rid themselves of imperial influence. To finally decide something where the empire had no say in it.

"A brighter future," the politicians must've said as they shook hands with the aliens.

"I suspect that there were many ... defections from the Systems Alliance?" I asked.

The lieutenant smirked. "Yes, my lord. In fact, one of the admirals of the Systems Alliance was so pissed, he grabbed an entire fleet and surrendered them to us."

I whistled. "The Alliance command must've been _pissed_ ," I remarked.

"Oh, they were. They demanded the return of the fleet -including two dreadnoughts- and the arrest of Admiral Yilson. We politely refused them, of course. Told them that traitors to humanity didn't deserve cooperation."

I raised an eyebrow. "Word for word?"

"Summarized. Of course, in retaliation, they limited trade with us, but it hurt them more than us."

I scoffed.

And we were at the foot of the palace.

* * *

I was led to a meeting room -again, decorated from top to bottom with gold- and sat in one of the chairs.

The room itself was less gaudy compared to the rest of the palace. For one, there were no statues here. And two, even though there were gold, it wasn't as heavily done; whereas the palace had gold flower patterns lining the walls of the corridor, there was only gold lining for the pillars and the walls. Three, the tables were of marble and gold, but it was hard to tell that there was gold on the marble table.

 _Creak._

I looked over my shoulder, and saw a man.

He was of average height. He dressed himself with a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"And you are..." I asked as I stood up.

The man simply stared at me for a few seconds before he grinned. "So you're the new family, huh?" he asked. He approached me and struck out his hand for a handshake. "Name's Johnathan David Escher, the 5th Prince of the Escherian Empire."

I shook his hand. "David Escher Senior."

The man nodded. "Yeah, I don't believe you," he replied with a stink look.

"... That's alright," I replied with a raised eyebrow. "I don't believe it either."

"Believe what?"

"That Dimitriv of all people ended up the most famous of my three sons."

He blinked. "Three sons? I didn't know David Escher Senior had three sons."

"Please don't talk as if I'm not in front of you."

"I don't believe that you are David Escher Senior, so I'll talk as if you aren't him."

"... Alright, I just won't talk to you then," I replied and sat back down.

"Don't ignor-"

"Johnathan."

There was a pause. "Father-"

"You will leave the guest alone. I've taught you better than to antagonize people like this."

I stood back up from my chair and looked.

This man was different. Unlike Johnathan, he wore much more formal designer shirts and pair of pants. He also had gold on him. Lots of gold. The pattern of a flaming bird on his shirt was sewn with gold. It melded quite well with his well trimmed, short-front mullet, brunette shenandoah beard, and walrus mustache. There were grey here and there everywhere, but they didn't interfere with the color scheme.

He was of the same height was Johnathan, but had much bulkier build. In fact, he would be at home with the old American lumberjacks.

"So you are the emperor of the Escherian Empire?" I asked.

He looked at me and nodded. "Welcome to the family, David Escher Senior," he said with a smile. "I would like to apology on behalf of my grandfather for losing your resting place," he added with an extended hand. "I am Emperor Dimitriv the Third, but to you, I'm just Dimitriv."

I gave him a lopsided grin as I shook his extended hand strongly. "You make it sound like I'm still dead," I replied easily enough. "But you wanted to meet me."

He nodded and then turned to Johnathan. "Leave us."

The boy nodded once before he left.

"Forgive my son. He is still ... brash. He has taken to the Alliance teaching more closely than that of the empire," he frowned as he reminisced. "But I digress, we're here to talk about you and me here."

I nodded, though I kept a note to ask what exactly the emperor was referring to. "I'm surprised you decided to forgo formal ceremonies. You know, like the ones used in Great Britain and the medieval world."

The emperor just smiled. "They cost too much money, and I'm not one for wasting it."

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the gold all around us.

"Gold is cheap compared to the old days, Brigadier," he grinned. "I believe it's a quarter of what it used to be? Asteroid mining brought down the price of gold a lot. Anyway," he spoke up as he placed his hands on my shoulder. "I'd like to welcome you to the family! Come, let's talk while we're seated. I may look young, but I'm fifty-nine years old!"

"Thank you," I replied, though I'm still a bit suspicious about this. We sat down around the table, just a chair away from each other. "Now then, what is it that you want me to do for you?"

He lifted his hands up in surrender. "Straight to the point, I see, just as history remembers you."

I scoffed. "I suppose history doesn't talk about my last decade of life," I muttered. "Yes. I suppose there is a reason why you were so jubilant to have me 'home.'"

The emperor chuckled. "Oh, there is. Aside from the fact that you always have been one of the people I wanted to meet, it's the job of the head of the house to inform you of your duties, should you choose to accept them, of course."

"I do."

"Good. I hope Lieutenant de Olavie has informed the general overview of your new assets?"

"About that..."

"Yes?"

"Aren't you sore about having the account not under your control?" I asked.

He scratched his chin a bit before shaking his head. "It is about a twentieth of the royal family finances, so finding it sudden gone from our hands was shocking. However, it wasn't detrimental at all. No, in fact, we appreciate the fact that you are willing to take over the rimworld management."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

The emperor sighed. "Although the Third Royal Escherian Account is held by the family, it was once a prestigious account to become a manager over. Due to its prestigious position, it has caused some infighting between some of our family members."

I nodded again. 13 planets, however poor, were worth fighting over, I supposed.

"First, let me show you where those planets are," he said as a hologram screen dropped down from the ceiling. Its curved view allowed for more realistic 3-D representation of the galaxy, I realized as the galaxy itself beamed into existence on it. the galaxy, our Milky Way, was then painted in multitude of colors. There was a large swath of red(Terminus), yellow(Attican Traverse), and blue(Citadel Council), and a much smaller swath of green. "The green territory is ours," the emperor spoke. "It's about a two-thirds of the Citadel Council territory, but thanks to the last generation's population boom, we match their population evenly. And oh," he said with a exclaim of realization. "Forgot about the Batarians." A purple swath appeared. It was the same size as the Escherian Empire.

"Unlike us, the Citadel Council, the Batarian Hegemony, and the Terminus Systems are limited by their Mass Relays to get to solar systems. Because of this, despite the size difference, in truth, we hold about as same number of colonies as the rest of the galaxy combined... Or rather did. The departure of the Systems Alliance has changed that balance a bit, but not by too much." The green territory soon gained a lot of holes, and those holes were blue of the Citadel Council. "Just the Systems Alliance held territories.

"Now, your rimworlds are over there."

A section of the Attican Traverse closest to the empire lit up. It was a small strip compared to the rest of the galaxy, but it was still noticeable.

"That's ... a lot of territory."

Dimitriv chuckled. "Oh, it is. The account only states 13 planets, but in truth, it contains 19 solar systems with an average of 1 habitable planets, which is not to mention the gas giants, asteroid and ice belts, and uninhabitable and very profitable mining worlds."

"What does any of them have to do with wealth?" I asked.

"Ah! Asteroid and ice belt mining is a big industry in the empire, actually. They require none of the robots or humans to do the actual mining as they are all ship equipment dependent, and since no one owns the asteroid belts in public systems, anyone with the right equipment and a ship can start their own mining business. Building all those stargates and new colonies can't be done without metals, you know.

"So my responsibility isn't just the planets ..."

"It's also the rest of the systems. You are effectively in charge of a large area."

"Do I get help at least?"

"Of course! Family doesn't throw family to the wolves, you know. The Seventh Patrol Fleet, which has 1 battleship, 5 cruisers, and 40 frigates will be under your command until you can build up your own fleet."

"... My own fleet?" I asked, paling a bit.

"There is a reason why I stressed your title, dear _Brigadier_ ancestor," Dimitriv grinned. "I hereby formally declare David Escher Senior, the Father of the Founding Escher, Duke of the Freyer Sector. Now, let's get ya introduced to the rest of the family! We may not have a formal ceremony and all that, but we are still holding a private party and all!"

"W-Wait, I t-"

That was how my life as the Duke started. Hoodwinked into a position of power I had never held, given responsibilities I was told was much smaller than it actually was, and worst of all, I couldn't simply refuse it because _they were family_.

...

Bloody hell, I don't think I'm ready for this.


	3. Arc I: Slow Disclosure

**The chapter itself is more fast paced oriented to speed through David's start as the Duke of Freyr Sector. It'll have some comedy, some serious business, and general adventure.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter, and with that said...**

 **You may begin reading.**

* * *

"So Lieutenant Samantha," I called as we headed to our destination, Imperial Space Station Onuxal of Planet Quentius. "Care to tell me about yourself?"

The said woman was now dressed in her formal military uniform. It reminded me of British Royal Navy's uniform, but it was gray and was extremely lacking in decorations. This was apparently the uniform of the Escherian Intelligence Security Corps.

Her family sat a bit behind us. The man of the family looked like a civilian, if his beard said anything. The children were ... well, children. Excitable, annoying, and wild. It doesn't help that both of them were boys.

"I was born in Imperial West Sahara in the city of Jugha-Dal, the oldest imperial city to have been built in the Saharan Plains since the Third Imperial War, to a family of French immigrants."

I stared at her with what I knew was a confused frown. Saharan Plains? Imperial West Sahara? "You're going to have to clarify some things for me, lieutenant. Imperial Sahara? Saharan _Plains_?" I asked.

She nodded. "Sorry, sir. I keep on forgetting that you have been dead for six centuries."

I grumbled. "You make me sound like a necromancer or something," I muttered under my breath. "So?"

"The Peace Treaty of the Third Imperial War forced the concession of several territories from Earth to then Kingdom of Escher. It was a minor portion of the treaty that no one really argued about during the signing," she began. "Three large territories were ceded: the Australian Continent, all of Sahara Desert, and the Antarctica. Australia became the main population center for Imperial citizens on Earth since then. Sahara itself underwent a terraforming project spearheaded by the fifth emperor, Emperor Lucius the Lover of Gardens. The project completed before his highness's death, and all of Sahara had been transformed into a rich, river-flowing, and habitable plains. Saharan Plains thus hold a second name in honor of the emperor, Lucius's Garden."

I whistled. The empire had terraformed a land that big? "And Antarctica?"

"It was a gesture of power. Antarctica was the last remnant of wilderness untouched by man, so the kingdom took it away from the reaches of Earth."

"A big 'fuck you,' huh?"

"Essentially, sir. It was reparation for the usage of nuclear weaponry."

"But didn't the kingdom do orbital bombardment in return?"

"The winner takes all in war, my lord. Especially in passionate wars like the Third Solar War."

I chuckled. "Fair enough, even if I don't agree with it," I replied.

"What would you have done, sir?" she asked with a curious glint in her eyes.

I looked at her for a second before shrugging. "Haven't thought about it. Anyway, we've digressed. Please continue with ... you being born in Juha-Dal?"

"Jugha-Dal, my lord," she corrected. "I was born on July 5th, 2663 AD. I was also the youngest of five siblings."

I grinned. "That sounds like my family."

"Sir?"

"I had a big family too, lieutenant. In fact, my youngest child was also a girl," I said, a little subdued at my own mentioning of little Regina.

"...This is the first time I've heard of the Founding Escher having a younger sister, sir."

I shrugged. "She died young. Dimitriv and she never got along as well."

"I see..."

"Sorry for interrupting so much."

"It's alright, sir. I get that you're an old man."

I blinked and then chuckled. "Cheeky little bugger, aren't ya?"

"One tries, my lord. Anyway, I initially wanted to become an artist. Unfortunately for me, I had a severe lack of skill in that department. It was during high school that the Shanxi Relay Incident happened. My brother died, and I decided to join the military."

I nodded. "A common enough occurrence."

"I met Charlie a year into my military service, and we got married. Not much has happened since then, sir."

* * *

When I arrived at Imperial Space Station Onuxal, I had one thought.

It wasn't about the lack of imperial guards saluting me -which was the case everywhere except here.

It wasn't about the ragged clothes some of the station workers wore.

It wasn't even about the state of affairs.

Okay, technically, it was about the state of affairs of the station, but it was a distinct thought that rose above all.

"Where's the janitor?"

So my first order of business as the Duke of Freyr Sector was not the start of infrastructure building projects or a harem of young girls(not that I'd do it, but I'm sure there are less morally lacking people who would) but an order for janitors to be hired.

For God's sake, there was shit on the hangar floor!

My second order was related to the first.

Apparently, there was no cleaning equipment for the janitors because _nobody sold anything to a rimworld space station_. Not unless I used the Fifth Patrol Fleet as a convoy to start moving equipments. It led to me asking exactly how the space station had been standing in the first place.

The only officer onboard the station before I came, one Major Daniel Ag Yalchevsky, told me that the stations was run only because of the single colony on the planet below was capable of producing subpar components which were used to replace broken components on the space station. As for the space station's hull itself, the current station was half the size of what it used to be.

It seems that three years ago, the space station's shields had failed for a month, during which a large asteroid took smashed into the now missing half of the space station.

...

I thought it was a design, not a bloody accident.

...

It was at this point the job was even bigger than how Dimitriv presented it to me.

Curse that man...

No wonder he didn't object to me taking over the account and its responsibilities; that bloody wanker was _happy_ to hand over the responsibilities!

Against complaints of the disgruntled captains of the Fifth Patrol Fleet, I ordered for them to serve temporarily as convoys to ship necessary goods to repair the station.

* * *

 _Entry 1_

I then made the point to visit the rimworld colony.

In the middle of a battle.

It was definitely not intentional.

I came down with a frigate with five bodyguards. I called for and met the colony leader as the new Duke of Freyr Sector.

The colonist leader's was Andrew Jackson Jr.

Just like his namesake, he was beloved by his colonists, a total of five hundred and some people. He was also a raging racists. Refusing entry to any and all aliens when I asked him about it.

He called them ... ahem, "filthy, motherfucking xenos who need to shove their self-righteous guns up their ass and fire their own assholes off so we can pour down some human cum to kill em off" and so on and so forth. Being the old man that he was, he also couldn't stop talking until I ordered him to stop.

I did learn a few things though. The colony itself was called Imperial Defenders. Mr. Jackson and his core colony members were veterans of the Shanxi Relay Incident, and were awarded with the right to settle down on any planet within imperial territory. They settled down on this world because it was -in their own words- "their duty to protect the empire wherever we are."

They even had FTL communicators here that could send messages through the local stargate; this system had no mass relay.

On the other hand, the colony was surrounded by sandbags on all sides. Why? The colony itself only took up a mountain in size, and the rest of the planet held some pirate bases.

I made a note to eliminate all pirate bases in my duchy.

Suddenly, I got panicked calls from the frigate saying that a huge wreck of a Mechanoid ship had been spotted. Then there was the sound of victory ... followed by a horrified gasp as the pieces of the said Mechanoid ship fell through the atmosphere... landing right in front of the colony I had been visiting. And from its wreckage crawled out the Mechanoids.

It was my first time seeing them. They were supposedly AI gone rampant and/or rogue some hundred years ago.

They were shiny white and grey, and there were two kinds. There was the one that looked like a humanoid. They either had a charge lance, a type of energy weaponry designed to fire a single piercing plasma shot, and those that had scythes for arms.

Then there were the big worms.

They either had a incendiary grenade launcher or a minigun.

But you know what was worse?

It was the damned voices the ship was making.

I learned later that Mechanoids had somehow managed to create a biotechnology that even humans haven't been able to.

Psychics.

Yes, bloody psychics! And they used it to burn fucking screaming voices into the minds of those near them.

I'm fighting them right now, and I can't tell which is worse. The Mechanoid guns or the screaming voice from those Mechanoids raging in my head.

"Captain Smith!" I know a cliche name for someone I don't know, but it was the name of the frigate's captain that I came down to this colony on.

"Yes, sir?"

"Orbital strike on these bastards!" I snarled into the omnitool.

"Sir, that's aga-"

"INCENDIARY INCOMING!" someone shouted.

I ducked, and felt something explode behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing a flaming carcass of one of the colonists.

"I WANT THAT ORBITAL STRIKE NOW!"

"... Yes, sir. You need to keep a hundred meter radius distance from them, sir, or you'll be caught in the blast radius. 15 seconds, sir."

I turned around, placing my back against the waist high sandbags.

"10 seconds to ORBITAL STRIKE!" I roared as loud as I could.

Everyone in hearing vicinity looked at me for a single second before they scrambled for cover.

The Mechanoids must have heard me as well because they tried to separate themselves, but they were too slow.

When the strikes came, they came down like the wrath of God himself. Three blue lines of the imperial ship's kinetic lances descended like the devil chasing sinners, and struck the very center of the Mechanoid formation.

I was not prepared for what a orbital strike would do, though.

The entire ground jumped, tossing me into the air, and dust flew up into the atmosphere like clouds.

I tumbled around in the air twice before hitting my head on the sandbags on my way down.

"Ow."

I ended up being admitted to the frigate's infirmary along with twelve colonists for broken bones, bullet holes, and shock. I also had a concussion and a broken nose.

That was my first day at work.

Oh, woe is me.

* * *

My second day at work sucked.

I was stuck in bed all day per doctor's orders.

* * *

On the third day, I was back in Onuxal Space Station... picking up trash.

* * *

On the sixth day, I actually did something noteworthy!

I signed paperwork for the station repair components and crew. That's it.

I didn't have to pick up trash.

* * *

On my fifteenth day as the Duke of Freyr Sector, the space station finally had enough materials, manpower, and expertise to start repairs.

The engineer in charge told me that it was going to take at least six months.

Oh joy.

On the other hand, that means I didn't really have any...

...

The pirates have space ships, right?

Space ships were the basis of all resource-related actions.

...

I also have a space station, right? A space station with hangars like airport hangars where I can make repairs to any captured space ships?

Why the hell didn't I think of this before?

"Lieutenant, can you call the Imperial Navy and see how much resource they can send us for pirate removal?"

She later answered with this: Yes, I can get an aid from the Imperial Navy, but only in ammunition and foodstuff as well as transports. The troops, the ships, guns, and the crew were my responsibility.

Thank the Lord for the emperor's little gift, the fifth Patrol Fleet. I had the guns, ships, and the crew for this.

But I had no troops to perform hostile takeovers of pirate bases and space ships aside from the crews of the Fifth Patrol Fleet.

"... You know," I muttered to myself as a piece of history decided to pop up in my head. "That might work."

* * *

"Uhh... you want what, sir?"

I was back down on Quentius (the planet which Onuxal Station is orbiting around) and had met with Mr. Jackson.

I smiled. "I'd like to hire about fifty of your more arms capable colonist, Mr. Jackson."

The man eyed me warily. In his position, I would too.

Mr. Jackson was currently stuck between a rock and a hard place. Though I told him that he wasn't obligated to obey me, he was formerly a citizen of the empire and a soldier as well. The years of discipline within him was going to make it hard for him to not obey me when I ask him for things.

It was actually one of the things that I was banking on to hire the needed troops.

Fifty may not sound like much, but considering that pirate frigates generally held little to no internal defense, was more worn out than a whore's vagina, and ran most likely on skeleton crews. Since a frigate's minimum crew size was 10 members (one to pilot, one for engineering bay, four to man the guns, one of weld holes in the ship, one for the infirmary, and two for security), fifty was a good number as any to capture ships. This was especially more so if you thought about the difference in armor and the like.

For clarification, I was obviously going to give my hired troops better armor.

"And ... what would be the terms of the employment?" he asked me.

I smiled internally. 'Good. I need strong leaders willing to question the nitty-gritty details of my actions if I'm going to rule. I did wish that Jackson was less of a raging racist though. That might create tensions later on.

I leaned back into the seat Mr. Jackson had offered me when I entered his neat but dull and gray office less than an hour ago.

"First off, all of them would be paid per mission."

"Then what would they do in the down time?"

"That depends on them. For the colonists I hire, even the daily station patrol will count as a mission."

"So... paycheck per action?"

"Yes."

"I suppose most of them wouldn't mind, but our colony only accepts silver or gold as currency."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that be heavy?" I asked.

He nodded. "It's why the colony doesn't really handle individual wallets and whatnot. We just spend the silver together while keeping them in the storage."

"I see."

"But just that, sir? I mean pay is good and all, but I ain't sending people who don't want to be sent."

I nodded. "Understandable. Second part of the contract would be that they would be either soldiers or policemen for the duration of the missions they undertake. As such, they will receive training and be taught how to act whatever the job requires of them."

"... That's mighty fine of you, sir. Education and pay."

I shrugged. "We're not in a feudal society. I need people who can work as specialists."

"Of course, sir."

"...Will you stop with the sirs? It's annoying."

"Then what should I address you as, my lord?" he asked with a grin.

I frowned at his cheekiness. "Let's go with my last title. Call me Brigadier if you really have to call me by anything."

Mr. Jackson's eyes widened. "Brigadier...? You were in the army?"

My eyes widened in turn. "Oh. I haven't introduced myself in full, haven't I? I only introduced myself as a duke," I muttered. I struck my hand out for him to shake. "I suppose a new introduction will have to do. My name is David Escher Senior, the Duke of Freyr, former Brigadier of the British Army in the 20th Century on Earth, and the Father of the Founding Escher. I woke up from stasis just a week ago. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson."

Samantha told me a week later that Mr. Jackson still suffered from black outs from the shock I gave him.

* * *

 _Entry 4_

A Free AI landed on my station after suffering extensive damage to his frigate during a battle with local pirates.

He was interesting, if odd. He asked that he be allowed to work in the station.

I asked him why.

He said he had nowhere to go.

I shrugged and allowed him, though I didn't tell him that due to my unique body, I can personally intercept any form of illegal entry he might try as a digital entity.

* * *

 _Entry 7_

Turns out, the AI was a spy from the pirates. He tried to destroy the station, but was caught.

I summarily executed him for multiple charges and confiscated his ship. The execution was closer to isolating the AI's persona and deleting the file, but eh. I made a great deal out of it by showing the deletion of the said files publicly.

I re-christened the confiscated ship as _Summary Executor_ , and had it equipped as a mining ship.

Oh, the factory parts for the component assembly arrived today.

* * *

 _Entry 9_

With metals coming in from the miner and components being pumped out by the newly assembled component factory, I began a trade and maintenance with the Quentius colony (outside of the soon-to-be hired fifty soldiers, who I will have to train up in discipline, tactics, and etc). The trade was simple: whenever my miners got silver, I would use that to buy supplies from the colony. The components were used to fix the space station and miners. This reduced the need for the Fifth Patrol Fleet to serve as convoy, which they were thankful for.

Their pride as the members of the mightiest human military had been hurt by the need to act as a mere bodyguard for consumer goods.

Still, this allowed for others things on my end. By freeing up the Fifth Patrol Fleet, I finally got about to rooting out the pirates on Quentius itself.

Usually, it involved a chance to surrender, and if they refused, I would orbital bombard their base. I would then "confiscate" anything the pirates may have left behind after their timely death.

But these people weren't people; they were rapists, looters, murderers, and sociopaths gathered in one location. The scum of the human race.

Just like the AI, it was summary execution. I didn't give a shit about these rimworld pirates.

Because I had the fleet jam each base before the orbital strike, I had essentially caught all pirates with their pants down because they couldn't warn each other. Most of the time anyway. Their spaceships and fighters? All of them had been grounded when _they were sleeping_ , which worked out in my favor. So I orbital bombarded what the sensors pointed out as their sleeping quarters in the dead middle of the night.

Yeah, not very honorable, but I don't think I have to be honorable with dishonorable folks.

It took the fleet a whole month to root out pirates from Quentius in such fashion, but by the end of it, I had enough supplies to last me for several years to come. But the supplies were not the biggest prize of the raids.

Oh no no no.

It was the spaceships and the fighters the pirates left behind that was true prizes of these raids. Why? Because after fixing them (or scrapping the too damaged vessels), I can increase the mining output!

And fix the ships, I did.

* * *

By the end of the month, I had the Fifth Patrol Fleet (which still consisted of 1 battleship, 5 cruisers, and 40 frigates), 29 makeshift asteroid frigate-class miners, 3 freighter-hull hauler, 67 repaired and retrofitted Kovi-class corvettes (for pirate hunting), and 9 repaired and retrofitted EscherIII-class frigates(for security).

Admittedly, the number of ships I had under my command was less than that of some PMCs powerful within the Escherian Empire and even most of the Citadel Council, it was a start.

I leaned back.

... But it was only a start. I couldn't stop here.

"Urgh," I uttered as I dragged my hands down across my face. I sighed and pulled up more files.

Paperwork so far was unnecessary outside of those that are needed for trade between myself and the rest of the empire. It's not like the colonists at Quentius were going to take paperwork; they didn't have time for that between growing, mining, defending, and so other doings. I did keep a meticulous record of the daily activities and big events, though, which is exactly what I've been doing since the start of my new "career."

...

Dear lord.

Am I really a duke now? Like the hereditary dukes of old times? The medieval times?

Seriously?

I still can't believe it.

* * *

 _Entry 11_

Managing "my" sector feels more and more like a search for survivors in the inhospitable rimworlds. I mean, I only found a small gathering of five hundred people on Quentius, which was _directly_ underneath the center for this sector's administrative space station (Onuxal). It was when I realized this that I've begun to fear for my rule.

Or the lack thereof.

I'm a duke. Cool.

I'm a duke of only a thousand men or so.

...

On that note, I did send out the Fifth Patrol Fleet to map out the rest of the sector.

Apparently, due to a lack of funding and interest, the Freyr Sector was one of the least mapped out sectors within the entire Escherian Empire, never mind the rest of the galaxy. Dimitriv was right about the

But that's because they were among the fifty or so stars that were mapped! There were more than half a thousand stars in my sector!

 _"Oh, only 19 or so planets to rule," Dimitriv told me with a smile._

Fucking liar, but it was expected.

After gleaming over more information about the empire, I learned that there was a lot of stuff going on, even more than I knew before. Namely, there were many reorganizations and internal expansion happening. The "growing tall" within their own border strategy was still being issued due to inability to expand outward. This meant, however, that there were a lot of military and administrative recruitment happening. Men and women were rapidly trained, and ickle pettiness like racism (by specie or skin color) was brutally put down because such pettiness decreased efficiency in the imperial military and administration.

Because of this, the emperor had to place many of his competent relatives, sons, daughters, and even his own mother in crucial positions not only to keep an eye-on each department and sectors but also to ensure that people understood exactly what he wanted. Now, it looks like nepotism, and it kind of is.

It is an empire, after all.

But all of the Eschers in crucial positions -whether they be department overseers, dukes, or counts- were all capable and distinguished people.

* * *

"And?" I asked the captain in front of me.

The Fifth Patrol Fleet had a run-in with a local pirate fleet at System 1X7EL-1 (or Ixiel, as I call it). The captain just told me that.

"Sir?"

I facepalmed before removing my hand from my face and glaring up at him. "Status report, captain. I want the full status report. What are the casualties? What ships suffered what kind of damage? Is the fleet is operable or does it need repairs in Onuxal? That kind of status report, not just the 'we fought something' statement," I growled.

His posture straightened, and his eyes widened. I wondered what caused such reaction. Was I not asking for a normal report?

"M-May I begin, sir?"

"Once you've dealt with your insufferable stutter, yes."

There was a pause, a cough, and then the captain began. "The Fifth Patrol Fleet under Fleet Commander Jonuv Johnson ran into a local pirate fleet our naval database has flagged as 'Voidbeard Pirates.'" _I scoffed. People still can't name anything properly, can't they?_ I wrote alongside a shorthand of the report so far. "The pirates attempted to flee, but the Fleet Commander was able to quickly deploy a warp stasis field-" _Note to self, learn about warp stasis field._ "-and prevent the pirate fleet from retreating. The pirate fleet was composed of 8 cruisers, 20 frigates, and 33 corvettes-"

My keyboard broke from the force I exerted in shock.

"What?!" I roared as I shot up, shocking the captain before me. "W-Why haven't I learned about this sooner? What the hell happened to the fleet?!"

"S-Sir, there is no need to worry."

"Stutter, captain. Get rid of it."

"Yes, sir... Well?"

A gulp, a pause, and then he spoke. "The Fifth Patrol Fleet suffered six frigate and two cruiser losses. Four of six frigates' crews died in the explosion of their ship."

"...That's surprisingly low casualty rate for fighting a fleet the same size as yours."

"Yes, sir. I believe that our fleet was better prepared for situations like this, sir. We quickly took down the cruisers, but it was the enemy numbers and suicide bombings that destroyed our ships."

"Suicide bombing?"

"One of the corvettes, which we presumed was run by AIs, rammed into one of the two lost cruisers. Afterwards, our analysts reported a transfer of consciousness of an AI origin from the ramming ship to the planet below us."

"... I want that AI found and brought before me, you hear?"

"Yes, sir. May I finish my report, sir?"

"You may continue."

"After we destroyed their fleet, we called for a hauler to pick up all of the scrap metals to be processed at this station, sir."

"You did well calling in the hauler for that. Continue."

"That's it, sir."

"And where were you when the freighter was called?"

"I was being given orders by the Fleet Commander to report to you, sir."

I nodded. "Dismissed. Write a detailed report on this, and make sure your peers and superiors submit their own reports."

"Yes, sir." With that, the captain saluted, and quickly retreated out of my office.

I faceplanted onto the table.

"What a fucking mess. I already lost a tenth of the fleet... I better call Dimitriv about this."

* * *

"Oh, no worries!"

I stared gawking at the emperor.

"What?"

"It's their job, right? To defend the empire from threats within and without? They did their duty."

The call came to an after I reported to him notable events in my sector, but the word stayed with me.

No worries.

It irked me. I stared at the screen long after the boy's face was gone, but the emotion didn't subside. No. Rather than subside, it grew.

There was a blatant disregard for the lives of the soldier.

No worries.

What about their family? Their children, spouses, and parents? No worries?

It irked me deep. The shocked face of the captain was now understandable. The _boy was shocked_ that a noble superior cared about his and his comrades' lives. Bloody SHOCKED.

It angered me.

I didn't even know I was angry until my jaws hurt.

Was this how the military was treated by _my family_?

It disgusted me.

...

I had questions to ask and answers to receive.

I turned to the console and contacted the Fifth Patrol Fleet.

The rugged face of the Fifth Patrol Fleet's Fleet Master came on.

His face was grim, and even had tear streaks on it.

"... What's wrong, Fleet Master Johnson?" I asked with equally hard tone.

"Grieving over the losses, sir."

I nodded. "I understand. Do you want some more time? I can wait."

"No, sir. I can take this call."

I nodded respectfully. "I want the Fifth Patrol Fleet back in Onuxal, and then a meeting with all of the captains and some of the non-comms."

The man now looked confused, which looked funny enough on his dirty face. "Sir?"

"I can wait, Fleet Commander. Take your time."

With that, I hung up.

I leaned back and sighed. 'Dear lord, what is wrong with this empire?' I asked myself.

* * *

 **Codex:**  
 **Corvettes and Frigates of the Escherian Empire**

 **Distinction:**

Corvettes are space warships under frigate hull size but much bigger than a fighter or transport. By regulations of the Escherian Empire, to be classified as a corvette, the ship class in question must be designed to be around 100 meters in length and half that in width. Corvettes are generally also much faster, but definitely weaker in hull strength, armor, and shielding.

Frigates of the empire are similar in size to those of the Citadel Council with few exceptions. Imperial ships use all purpose electromagnetic shields layered on top of repulsion shield. Together, they act to redirect and stop bullets trying to pierce their hull. However, this causes a "Shatter" phenomenon when it takes too much hits at once, resulting in temporary loss of shield where the shielding units "crash" in their computation and energy output.

EscherI-class Frigate  
Length: 250m  
Width: 70m  
Height: 16m  
Density: 0.07 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: NA  
Inertia Dampener: 14G  
Max Speed: 0.00019c  
Weapons: 6 Amox-Tenix Railgun Turret (10cm Tungsten Carbide Armor Piercing Round)(0.006c)  
Defenses: 2 Small "Alan" Shielding Units (MAX: 2kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Kingdom of Escher  
Notes: It was the first successful attempt at a military spacecraft. It served both as the Kingdom's trade ship and defense. Because of this, this class of frigate was generalized rather than specialized as most modern ships are.

EscherII-class Frigate  
Length: 193m  
Width: 53m  
Height: 10m  
Density: 0.081 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: NA  
Inertia Dampener: 20G  
Max Speed: 0.00025c  
Weapons: 5 Amox-Tenix Railgun Turret (15cm Tungsten Carbide Armor Piercing Round)(0.006c)  
Defenses: 2 small "Alan" Shielding Units (Max: 2kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Kingdom of Escher  
Notes: This was the kingdom's response to the more specialized warships of the Russian-Chinese frigate designs. It has significantly less hullspace, higher inertia dampener to handle sharper turns at higher speed and acceleration, and bigger rounds to put more holes in the enemy ships.

EscherIII-class Frigate  
Length: 265m  
Width: 75m  
Height: 13m  
Density: 0.12 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: 2c/day  
Inertia Dampener: 18G  
Max Speed: 0.0004c  
Weapons: 6 Arrivo Railgun Turret (17cm Depleted Uranium Armor Piercing Round)(0.01c)  
Defenses: 4 small "Alan" Shielding Units (MAX: 4.4kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Kingdom of Escher  
Notes: True space warfare had come. The only heavy frigate among the Escher-class line, it had the heaviest rounding, hardest hitting, and largest fitting guns and higher tier shield levels to go with it. Though it costed the Kingdom thrice as much to produce one of these compared to EscherI-class frigate, the Kingdom went and converted three-quarters of their frigates to this class because of one reason: FTL capabilities. It was the first warship to possess FTL capability in Kingdom of Escher (the honor of first ever FTL warship goes to USA's Washington-class frigates).

Vindicator-class Frigate  
Length: 201m  
Width: 98m  
Height: 20m  
Density: 0.10 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: 1.33c/day  
Inertia Dampener: 16G  
Max Speed: 0.0001c  
Weapons: 8 Arrivo Railgun Turret (17cm Depleted Uranium Armor Piercing Round)(0.01c)  
Defenses: 5 small "Yuma" Shielding Units (MAX: 5.9kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Kingdom of Escher  
Notes: Anticipating the mass production of warships from Earth and Luna, this frigate was developed to destroy other frigates. Half as wide as it is long, it has a total of 8 turrets and 5 shielding units, making it the tankiest frigate (nearly destroyer) to participate in the Third Solar War. In exchange for firepower, however, it sacrificed max speed and FTL speed, making them essentially a bloody turtle: slower than anything else but harder to kill than anything else.

Devourer-class Frigate  
Length: 222m  
Width: 57m  
Height: 18m  
Density: 0.12 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: 3c/day  
Inertia Dampener: 21G  
Max Speed: 0.0002c  
Weapons: 4 Arrivo Railgun Turret (20cm Depleted Uranium Armor Piercing Round)(0.01c)  
Defenses: 6 small "Yuma" Shielding Units (MAX: 7.08kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Imperial Escher Naval Engineering Corps  
Notes: Designed to be a hit-and-run tactic centric warship, Devourer-class frigates have weaker hulls and armor than any other frigates. Instead, it has heavy shields to compensate.

Charity-class Frigate  
Length: 280m  
Width: 66m  
Height: 16m  
Density: 0.1 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: 2c/day  
Inertia Dampener: 18G  
Max Speed: 0.00016c  
Weapons: 12 Basilisk Multibarrel-Railgun Turrets (14 cm Tungsten Carbide Armor Piercing Rounds)(0.008c)  
Defenses: 2 Medium "Yuma" Shielding Units (MAX: 4kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Imperial Escher Naval Engineering Corps  
Notes: This frigate (the latest of its kind mass produced in the Escherian Empire) follows a different philosophy of war: Overwhelm. Instead of big guns, let's put on smaller guns half the size of the big guns, and overwhelm enemy shields with similar sized rounds. It fires slightly slower rounds that fires constantly from its multibarrel railgun.

Navi-class Corvette  
Length: 113m  
Width: 30m  
Height: 9m  
Density: 0.09 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: NA  
Inertia Dampener: 28G  
Max Speed: 0.0002c  
Weapons: 2 Light Amox-Tenix Railgun Turret (10cm Tungsten Carbide Armor Piercing Round)(0.005c)  
Defenses: 2 Small "Alan" Shielding Units (MAX: 2kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Kingdom of Escher  
Notes: Developed soon after the EscherI-class frigate, this ship was meant to fill in the role of escort that traditional naval frigates performed on seas. However, due to ever increasing size of ships, this has led to the corvette class like this frigate to be relegated to security or personal usage.

Moli-class Corvette  
Length: 120m  
Width: 30m  
Height: 10m  
Density: 0.085 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: 1c/day  
Inertia Dampener: 25G  
Max Speed: 0.00018c  
Weapons: NA  
Defenses: 2 Small "Alan" Shielding Units (MAX: 2kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Imperial Escher Naval Engineering Corps  
Notes: There was a need for exploration during the 24th century, and the Kingdom's engineering corps complied by commercializing weaponless design of one of their new corvettes as an exploration, research, and hauling ship. It was very successful, even if it lacked weapon slots. However, it also became very prevalent between pirates who retrofitted the ship with weapon slots. This,however, has had the effect of reducing hull and armor strength.

Kovi-class Corvette  
Length: 100m  
Width: 34m  
Height: 8m  
Density: 0.112 tonnes/cubic meter  
FTL: 1.5c/day  
Inertia Dampener: 23G  
Max Speed: 0.0002c  
Weapons: 1 Arrivo Railgun Turret (17cm Depleted Uranium Armor Piercing Round)(0.01c)  
Defenses: 2 small "Yuma" Shielding Units (MAX: 2.36kN before Shatter)  
Developer: Imperial Escher Naval Engineering Corps  
Notes: It serves a role closer to hard-hitting gunship and troop transport than a warship.

* * *

 **AN Title 1: The Words**

 **I suppose some of you have issues with my wordings in the chapter above, and I could see why, but I don't care at the same time.**

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 **Word count for the Codex is less than 10% of the chapter, so don't complain too much.**


	4. Arc I: Establishment

_Entry 13_

This is my interview with Fleet Master Jonuv Johnson.

Fleet Commander Jonuv Johnson of Imperial Escherian Navy  
Occupation: Fleet Commander of Fifth Patrol Fleet, Captain of the _IEN Sirius_  
Status: Alive and well, if a bit grim from recent losses

Once I got him to open up, Johnson was very adamant about the current emperor's lack of respect for the military, which has been thankfully offset by the Crown Prince and Third Prince's support of the military. He spoke of how the military has been scaled up but none have been deployed beyond the Inner Sectors, essentially making the Rimworlds defenseless. This is quite concerning because the rimworlds hold 30% of the total imperial citizen populations.

He also spoke of the factions within the military. Currently, the military was under the rule of the nobility-led officers, who have done their best to put down the common born commissioned officers and non-commissioned officers by either bribing them to leave the service or threatening them. The emperor knows little about the backstage politics within the military, but are in clear support of the noble officers.

The Crown Prince leads the second faction, the Untouchables. Due to Crown Prince's influence and the emperor's desire to allow the Crown Prince to do as he wishes, the Untouchables have grown to become their own little island within the military. While they perform their duties, they are very ignorant of matters outside of their own little circle and interest, which has both distanced them from the rest of the military and has cemented the idea that the Crown Prince would be little different from the emperor once he rises to power.

The third faction is the powerless Commoner Officers. Making up more than 70% of all officers but only 10% of commissioned officers, the Commoner Officers are led by our own Fleet Commander Jonuv Johnson. They seek to break the hold of nobles from the military, but the current emperor gives the nobles too much power. While the Commoner Officers have been successful in breaking the power of the nobles from patrol fleets and logistics, the rest of the military lies in the hands of the noble officers.

At this point, I wanted others' opinion on the current goings of the military and society, so I decided to ask the man about his family.

Fleet Master Johnson has four sons, and two of them died in the battle just yesterday.

 _[Hidden statement: Jonuv finally cried in front of me, and I promised him that no one would know]_

* * *

 _Entry 17_

Same day as Entry 13, interviewing Captain Romanov Greengrass-Quelnovsky.

Captain Romanov Greengrass-Quelnovsky of the Imperial Escherian Navy  
Occupation: Captain of _IEN Empire's Business_ , part of Fifth Patrol Fleet  
Status: Alive and well, if a bit sarcastic

Addendum: Of the ten captains I've interviewed, Captain RGQ is the most sarcastic ever since I gave him express permission to talk as he wished.

He was very upset with everything. He was upset with me, upset with the Fleet Commander, and upset with the world. Why? He didn't like me. He didn't like the commander. And he definitely did not like the world. Why? Because I was a noble. Because the commander didn't do enough. Because the world took advantage of him. So on and so on. A normal case of very disgruntled man.

* * *

 _Entry 18_

Same day as Entry 13, interviewing Captain Sarah Montegreo.

Captain Sarah Montegreo of the Imperial Escherian Navy  
Occupation: Captain of the IEN Lesser Maw, part of the Fifth Patrol Fleet  
Status: Wounded (broken left forearm)

Addendum: She tried to flirt me.

Captain Montegreo was very forward with me. She found me sexy. I told her I wasn't interested and needed to get continue her interview. She responded by saying she was "free tonight for a hot ride." I asked her if she was flirting to get out of interview for whatever reason she may have had. Her response had been if I would like to interview all of her. I asked her if she wanted a demotion. She shut up.

* * *

 _Entyr 19_

Same day as Entry 13, interviewing Sergeant Johnathan Ulysu

Sergeant Johnathan Ulysu of the Imperial Escherian Army  
Occupation: Sergeant of the 19th Imperial "Bearclaw" Regiment, attached to Fifth Patrol Fleet  
Status: Alive and well, if a little bit nervous

Addendum: The youngest NCO I interviewed today

The man was nervous as hell. I asked him why, and the honest man told me that it was his first time being in front of a royalty, an honor within the Escherian Empire. I told him to treat me like his own grandfather. I asked him about the living conditions outside of the Fifth Patrol Fleet. He told me that life was good. I told him to answer honestly. He told me life was not good. Even though he was a member of the army, the empire didn't provide his family with living space in the Core Sector because his family was ex-pats from Systems Alliance. Because of this, one of his younger sisters died in a recent pirate raid, which explains why he was extremely happy about how he was allowed to participate in putting down pirates just the day before.

* * *

 _Entry 21_

It had been a day since I interviewed all of the captains and the few select NCOs. Gotta say, the empire is divided on four fronts, which was not good.

The emperor himself was a front. He pushed for reforms and reorganization he felt that the empire needed. He was opposed by the conservative businesses and nobles, who didn't want change in their empire (which certainly would mean they would have to _work_ to keep their own mini-empires stable). These two sides were then buffered by the moderate nobles and the military who wanted reforms but to the extent of that the emperor wanted.

And then there was the last faction: the Rimworlds.

As much as the empire wanted to focus on the Rimworlds for development and security, there simply was not enough of everything. On top of that pirates were rampant in these sectors. Some pirate fleets were as half as large as one of the true fleets of the empire, a size that no mere patrol fleet could hope to fight against.

I had the luck that the Rimworld sector with that particular pirate fleet was on the other side of the empire.

I digressed. The Rimworld sectors were not receiving supplies, arms, or manpower. They were under the empire's flag in name only, and received no protection with the exception of very few lucrative or large Rimworld colonies.

Oddly enough, the rest of the empire (aka the commoners in the Core Worlds and the Inner Sectors) didn't show favor for any single faction because they too were equally as divided as the elites themselves.

I can't worry too much about the overall empire. I was barely established in my sector as it was, and the emperor told me that I had a year or so before the Fifth Patrol Fleet would move out from under my command.

... I needed more ships, equipment, and people.

* * *

I gathered the captains and their trusted officers into Onuxal's biggest private meeting room. The meeting room was designed minimally in regards to decorations. The metal tables were set up in a square with just enough room to put two pieces of letter paper vertically. Utilitarian plastic chairs were set up in rows for simplicity's sake.

I sat at the head of the room on the only chair with more cushioning than the others as the captains and their trusted officers entered the room. They seemed wary. I didn't say anything nor did they ask. They merely moved to the chairs where they assumed were set out for them.

The last officer to enter the room was Jonuv Johnson, the Fleet Commander. I nodded to him, and he walked up to the very front of the room, and took a seat right next to me.

We discussed this beforehand. I asked Johnson to give me support in the meeting to come after I explained to him what I was going to do. He agreed, and seemed excited about it.

"You must all be wondering why I called you here, yes?" I asked them, and most of them nodded. "Truth be told, I have no intention of taking part in the factional disputes this entire empire seems to have trapped itself in."

They looked at each other in confusion and relief. From what I understand, most of the officers here are of commoner origin, so having to work under a duke like myself must have been unnerving, not knowing when or how their words or actions would be taken as a reflection of their entire peerage and how the nobles (in their mind, me) would react.

"However," I began. "I will say this: keep the disputes out of my sectors. Noble or commoner, you all fall within my rule when you stay in my sector, so don't cause trouble. As long as you follow orders and don't cause trouble, I won't forbid your meetings, posting of your ideology, and the like. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord!"

I nodded. "Then let's start the strategic meeting for how we're going to root out those pirates..."

* * *

I watched as the mining fleet dropped out of warp drive and slowly entered Onuxal's hangers to drop off their day's worth of work. The fleet of two freighters, thirty five mining frigates, and ten mining corvettes slowed into the hangar one by one, and I waited for the man in charge of the fleet to come into my office.

And he did less than thirty minutes later (I played _Crusader Kings X_ while I waited).

"So?" I asked the mining fleet commander. "I hope there's no news? No news is good news after all."

The man's name was Winston Kim. Dark skinned, white haired, and grey eyed man, Winston was a man in possession of a predatory aura. It was the kind of aura you wanted in a drill sergeant but not a human resources manager. As a fleet commander, the man kept good security and care over his men and ships, which learned him a lot of points from his subordinates and myself.

I hired him a few days after all of the confiscated ships were repaired and retrofitted for their new duties. He had been recommended to me by one of the more trusted mining companies. Being a retiree, he had suddenly come into debt after his grandfather died with a massive debt (his grandfather was 209 years old, and he was 88). 'Ah yes, the wonders of technology,' I thought sarcastically. 'Giving people more time to accumulate more debt.'

Kim had my respect. He had five other siblings, and instead of splitting the debt among them, he took on the entire debt. It helped that his own family was no longer dependent on him (with his wife being dead, his son missing, and his daughter married to a rich noble). I supposed I empathized with the man (his son being missing part), at least enough to hire him over others once his credentials, credits, and liability checked out.

He grinned at me. "We found a small pocket of ice belt, but I don't think it's big enough to set up any kind of large operation on it. Maybe a few frigates everyday until it runs out."

"How much do you estimate?" I asked.

MFC Kim closed his eyes, scrunching it before, he muttered out, "My baby's scanner said about half a million tonnes, but estimating losses in mining and refining, I'd say it's closer to ... four hundred kilo tonnes by the time it's in the station?" he estimated. "Yeah. Not much. Most of it was oxygen and hydrogen."

I nodded. "I suppose. We don't want to complete drain our sources so quickly. What about the local gas giant? Does it have any useful ice belts?"

The system's gas giant, nicknamed by the Fifth Patrol Fleet as "Blushitain," (short for blue shit stain), was three-quarters of the size of Jupiter back at Sol System. Its blue and brown atmosphere was melancholic to me, but my interest on the gas giant lay in its rings. Due to its distance from the local sun, Blushitain had a ice ring belt.

Unfortunately, the distance between each ice asteroid was ridiculously far apart unlike what movies made them seem like, and they moved fast. Chasing after ice blocks in space was not profitable due to fuel used.

It was another thing I had to learn: ice was valuable. This was because moving oxygen and water in quantities needed by space stations and spaceships from planets to space was unprofitable. Yes, while big freighters do move goods from planets to space stations (and thus making profit by quantity), it wasn't viable as the buying and selling of water and such goods had barely any profit, especially in rimworld sectors like Freyr Sector where the industry of water purification wasn't developed.

See the pattern? Everything was done how they were because of _money_.

Money that I lacked.

Thankfully, there was a base of income making its way through my sector now. The miners were hard at work, and the component factory inside Onuxal was now selling components and refined metals to Inner Sectors with convoys protected by my own ships, not the Fifth Patrol Fleet.

Speaking of the Fifth Patrol Fleet, it was on the other side of the Freyr Sector right now, rooting out another pirate base from a habitable planet.

Kim shook his head. "No, sir. The shit lives up to its name. It's mostly nitrogen and helium."

I shrugged. "Hmm, odd. Alright. You can have two of the mining corvettes go about taking care of that ice belt you found."

"Okay. Anyway, we drinking tonight again?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. I got some business to attend to. You can join me tomorrow, though."

He barked out a laugh. "Me join you? You mean you join me."

I dismissed him halfheartedly.

* * *

I looked over the weekly report given to me by colony representative, Mr. Jackson, from Quentius.

As for Quentius (the planet upon which Onuxal orbits), the colony there was now blossoming. There was now forty thousand people living on the colony, many of whom had arrived mere days after the news of local pirates being driven off had reached the Inner Sector. Many of those very colonists were also those from the "first" Quentius colony, not the one headed by Mr. Jackson.

I didn't know this, but the planet had some history. It had been initially settled by imperial colonists seeking to make riches off of its rich soil (though they had to abandon the initial colony when pirates took root in the area), but was now inhabited by veterans who had been given land here. Some of those initial colonists were coming back as well as newcomers.

This raised a new problem, though.

Due to the legalities upon which the first colony was founded, I was not the owner of the planet as far as the lawyers saw it.

I just shoved them the emperor's edict (his appointment of me as the duke of the Freyr Sector). That got the lawyers to back off, but they began to rain down documents regarding lands on the planet being owned by certain people and whatnot.

The returning colonists themselves, however, weren't as compliant. You would expect the colonists of an absolute monarchy like Escherian Empire to be more fearful or more obedient towards the members of the royalty.

There are plenty of ways to earn a living in the Core Worlds or the Inner Sector. Hell, there are plenty of uncolonized, unowned (by any corporation or singular entity outside of the emperor), and colonizable worlds in the Inner Sector! So why were these particular colonists here? It had to do with that lack of deference to authority I mentioned earlier. That was the exact reason why these people were colonists; they were exiled from the Core Worlds and the Inner Sector for whatever they did, be it ideological difference, unwanted religion, or species; the list of reasons go on and on.

Of course, they weren't exiled by the emperor personally nor by the judicial courts. In fact, exile is a bit of an incorrect term. Self-exile would be more correct. Driven out by their peers, "encouraged" to leave the area and not being accepted anywhere else they moved to, marked by the intelligence agency as "malcontent," and the list goes on.

The "unwanted" of the empire.

In essence, they were outcasts of the empire. Those who didn't like the empire but chose to stay regardless in the Rimworlds, the furthest reaches of the empire within itself.

And that's where the problem lay.

To them, I was an outsider who came to rule over them.

Now, I had two choices regarding these people. I can be the outsider they view me as. I can use force and law to move them as I see fit. I was a duke, not a bloody president.

Or... I can go about this ruling business in a softer approach. I know that I am not the best of rulers, but the first lesson I learned as a leader was to ensure the "picture of safety and assurance." That is, don't make your people panicky by looking weak or submissive. This wasn't to say that I had to become ruthless and cruel. I had to be firm and soft ... life a cartilage!

And this meeting with the leader of the returning colonists was what that was about.

A woman dressed in a grey business suit entered the meeting room. She looked at him. "Duke David?" she asked.

I gazed at her for a second, taking in her character. She was a woman of average build. Her luscious and wavy hair draped around her left shoulder, half-covering her left eye, and teasing any viewer of her half-exposed chest (I saw better in my own granddaughter). Her amber, downturned eyes clashed with her purple lipstick, though. Overall, an attractive woman, but my brain was wired and controlled by machine more than hormones or instinctual responses. My observations here were just that, observations.

I nodded as I stood up. I walked around the table and extended a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Clearwater. I am indeed Duke David."

She hesitated before she shook my hand. "I have that you were an odd noble, but shaking a commoner's hand goes beyond what they say," she replied with a raised eyebrow.

I frowned. "Is that what the nobles are like these days?"

"Yes. Disdainful and rude."

"I suppose they make poor business partners then."

She chuckled. "Yes, that is true. I hope we can make productive ends by the end of this meeting."

"As do I," I replied in kind as I gestured for her to take a seat.

This meeting room was unlike the one I used to talk to the officers of the Fifth Patrol Fleet. It was smaller, for one, and one of the public meeting rooms in the public sector of the Onuxal Space Station. I had brought in furnitures and the like from the Inner Sector, and the meeting rooms were the first to be decently furnished. This room showed that with the soothing lamps, moderately expansive statues, and marble table at the center of the room.

I sat on the other side as Miss Clearwater took her seat. "So how may I help you, sir?" she asked me.

"... I think you have it wrong, miss," I spoke up with a tone of feigned confusion. "It's not about me but about _us_."

She didn't make any changes to her facial expression. "Would you mind explaining?"

"Of course," I said as I placed a holoprojector on center of the table. I activated it, and a detailed -if partially classified- roster of the Freyr Sector was shown before her. "Truth be told, the colonists on Quentius are the only registered colonists in my sector, and I intend to keep them."

She didn't speak, but her eyes accused me with how they constricted.

I've read up on Miss Clearwater's history. She was born to a middle class family in the Inner Sector, but lost her family to gangs and debtors. She and many others who had been hit by similar fate gathered together to demand the local noble and judicial court to give them justice. The noble in question, a count, instead fired into the protesters (the intelligence agency has proof that the count still worked with the very gangsters that robbed Miss Clearwater and countless others of their livelihood and family).

Disillusioned with the empire by the event, she led people to the Rimworlds, only to be kicked out by pirates and mechanoids. She returned today with her people as soon as the sector had grown safer.

"You see, I don't understand the empire."

She finally let an expression through that blank mask of hers: confused.

"You have not researched me, I presume?"

"...I tried, but I couldn't find anything about you. Only that you were made duke a few months ago."

I nodded. "That would be because I wasn't alive until a few months ago."

"... An AI?"

I laughed. "Oh, goodness, no. I'm a cryostasised man from few centuries ago."

She stared at me.

"Duke David, please do not joke with me. We're here on a serious business."

I glared at her. "And you should listen to me, young woman, when I say that I am being completely serious," I retorted hotly.

She reared back a little, though it was barely perceptible, even with my bionic eyes.

"What does that have to do with our meeting, my lord?" she asked after taking in a measured breath.

"Ah!" I smiled, all hostility gone from my face and body expression, which was exactly what I willed it to do; good thing about a near completely bionic body is that you can control all expressions of the body. "You see, before I was Duke David Escher Senior of the Freyr Sector of the Escherian Empire, I was the father of Dimitriv Escher and a brigadier of the British Army."

Oh, I loved bombdropping that on people. The facial expression, that shock they showed, was too fun to see.

Before she could refute my statement, I spoke up. "And being a man from the twentieth century, this whole empire business is ... new to me. Some parts are commendable while others, not so much. Count Wall, for example, would've faced criminal charges back where I was from."

Her eyes narrowed. Count Ural Wall was the one who killed the protesters and her family(indirectly), after all.

"And I understand that there are people within the empire who ... have issues with the way that the empire is run. I intend to take them in."

"For what reasons, sir...?"

"... I suppose I was born to be shepherd rather than a general," I smiled sadly. "It became a tick of mine. I mentored NCO's, CO's, civilians, kids, adults, and even my peers as much as I could without thinking about it. Now, you're thinking I would. I did and will do because I like seeing people ... blossom," I grinned. "My primary job is to take care of the sector as I see fit, and I see fit to invite the unwanted of the empire to a place where they can be ... isolated, I suppose," I gestured. "Due to my position as both a Rimworld sector leader and a Duke, I can classify the Freyr Sector as an semi-autonomous sector, thus allowing me to create laws that only affects us and not allow certain other laws to affect us from the empire."

"Y-You intend to do that?" she stuttered.

I nodded. "I've discussed this with the emperor."

"A-And he agreed?"

I nodded. "He did. I could've done it by the law, but it was easy to get approval, making this entire process easier on _us_ ," I said, stressing the "us" in the sentence.

* * *

After I watched Miss Clearwater leave, I leaned back on the chair and groaned.

Nothing I said was a lie. Mere hours before meeting Miss Clearwater, I called the emperor and was able to receive the approval. The emperor was happy to remove the unwanted, and I agreed with him.

Of course, neither side knew that I was a moderate and had my own agenda beyond "helping" them. I was making myself look like a social reformist -or at least, a sanctuary- to Miss Clearwater, and I was to an extent. I didn't like some parts of the empire, and wished that they could be changed.

I made myself look like a pillar of society wanting to take the burden that was the unwanted from the empire to the emperor. The unwanted in the center of a nation was a disaster waiting to happen, one way or another, and we both knew it.

I was neither that social justice man or a martyr of the empire. To me, they were people that needed a place to thrive in, and I could provide them that sanctuary they wanted, albeit they would have to follow my rules more closely than that of the empire. At least I was going to be more lax on them.

Doesn't mean I won't keep on eye on them.

Nothing I said so far was a lie, but maybe the perceived political and emotional state that they thought they saw in me was a lie.

...

Politics. I hate it. Too fucking complicated.

I sighed and made my way to my home. 'I'd rather be on the battlefield than deal with people...'

...

I was a dumb fucker for asking a battlefield because six months after taking in Miss Clearwater and her people, I got exactly what I asked for.


	5. Arc II: Mechanoid Troubles

It's been a full year since I arrived at Freyr Sector and Onuxal, and I could proudly say, "I made this." Unlike the empty visage that met me a year ago -where the space station hung in orbit of Quentius with no traffic going in or out, where the insides of the station was filled sparsely with descendents of the former denizens of the space station, and the wastes of mankind littered the once grand structure's hallways-, there were people. Moving in and out of the space station in their spaceships, mining prospecters and freighters coming and going. From my window, I could see at least a dozen spaceships coming and going every minute. That's how populous and center of trade my space station has become for my sector and the other Rimworld sectors.

But that was not all. Oh no no, that was not all. There now laid a space elevator between the central colony on Quentius and Onuxal, effectively tying the station to the planet. With this space elevator, people and goods were moving between Onuxal and Quentius.

...

But yeah, space elevator. In the time that I've been sleeping(read: dead) for several centuries, people went and made the once impossible concept into reality! It was bloody great! But like all things, I grew used to its presence after a week or so. A marvel, yes, but now a part of daily life.

"My lord."

I looked up from my table where a breakfast dish lay. It was a "Fine Meal" by Quentius standards (a few slices of local capybara meat and mashed potato). It tasted alright, though I supposed that I didn't quite need it.

Over the course of the year, I began to notice more things about myself. The first of which was how "fit" I was. More than half of my body was bionic, which meant that they ran on electricity provided by internal batteries(read: miniature nuclear fission plant). So yes, my brain was organic, and that's what the food was for: I needed a tenth of an average person's daily intake of calories to keep myself going.

As for the brain itself, Dimitriv did his job well. Even the bloody brain was more machine than flesh. Because of the implants and whatnot, I didn't need a lot of sleep.

Like one hour every two day was the minimum I needed. I still slept six hours each day, because that's what I'm used to.

As my eyes left the fine meal and to the one who called me, I smiled. "Yes?" I asked, and saw a NCO from the Fifth Patrol Fleet (easily identifiable thanks to the blue stripe on their grey uniform).

"A message from the Fleet Commander, sir. Pirates in Y7123 system have been eliminated."

I frowned. "So fast?" I asked as I brought up the map of Freyr Sector. "He made sure to check all nook and cranny?"

Just in front of my breakfast plate, a hologram showing the entire Freyr Sector popped up in green. "Y7123 system," I intoned. The map highlighted a star four parsecs away from Quentius System, a map that superimposed from the planet to system since it was my right.

... It made memorization easier.

Y7123 was a red dwarf with four planets. Three were too close to the planet, but the last was in the Goldilock Zone, and had a lot of water. In fact, it was a ocean planet with millions of islands, literally. It was almost the size of Earth too, though for some reason, the gravity on Y7123-5 was measured at 1.9G instead of expected 0.9G.

It was where my next project was located, or was going to be once the pirates were removed.

"Yes, my lord," the sergeant(he was a communication specialist) replied. "We expect that there will be at least forteen frigates and thirty corvettes we will be able to salvage, though the fleet commander also reported that half of them were too damaged and would most likely have to be recycled completely."

"Hmm," I muttered as I stuck a medium cooked capybara meat slice into my mouth.

... The cook used too much salt.

Anyway, half of forty-four ship was still twenty-two, which was fine by me. The corvettes could be made into patrol squads, and the frigates could be easily fitted into being heavier patrol gunboat. Or maybe a missile boat.

"Alright, dismissed. Send me the commander's report through the e-mail."

"Yes, my lord."

Once the sergeant left, I smiled.

Twenty two ships. That was grand.

In a month or so, the emperor's lease on the Fifth Patrol Fleet was going to run out, which means they would go back to whatever they were doing before they had been given to me (they told me it was border patrol along Systems Alliance systems and the imperial systems). This meant that I needed to build up my own security fleet, and I have been doing so for the past five months.

With a total of three cruisers, fifteen frigates, and nine corvettes, all of which were specifically fitted for combat role, they weren't much. But with how much pirates and their bases the Fifth Patrol Fleet removed in this past year, I suspect that it'll be enough.

This was why that twenty-two new ships were very welcome to me, even though I didn't express it verbally. That would effectively double my fleet size and increase firepower by at least 70%.

"Hm hm," I grinned happily as I typed in the expected additions to my navy. 'Finally,' I thought. 'I will be able to field a navy worthy of protecting this sector on its own.'

* * *

FSN(Freyr Sector Navy) _Fair Deal_ was a Norman-class cruiser. It was originally called the _Wrath of the Empire_ under the IEN, _Sin of the Empire_ under its brief service under a rebellious fleet, then _Yugoslav_ once the pirates took it from a battlefield, and finally _Fair Deal_ under the FSN. It was a old ship, though not as old as some of the other frigates in the FSN.

Its captain, Provincial Captain Solomon Arturius, didn't care. He had been given her by one of the royalties of the empire, and he would do everyone proud. His burning desire to prove himself was actually the reason Fair Deal was the one of the best maintained and cleaned ships in the FSN.

Today, it was the flagship of the 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet, a fleet compsoed of itself, ten frigates, and thirty corvettes, all of which were armed to the teeth.

Solomon knew that this patrol fleet was nothing compared to any one of imperial fleets, but it was one that he led, and he was proud of them. Even without the help of the Imperial Fifth Patrol Fleet, the 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet held its ground on multiple occasions against small pirate fleets and even asteroid pirate bases.

He could talk more about his pride of the fleet, but something caught his attention.

Actually, that thing was a blip in the radar that had been the center of his attention for the past hour. The 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet entered MZ-3399 five hours ago, and a signal caught the attention of the entire fleet with its _utter lack of subtlety_. As far as the radar technicians were concerned, the ping in question was like a lighthouse in the deepest darkness nights of Terra at sea.

This was odd in and of itself because of where they were.

MZ-3399 was a red dwarf with one planet. One inhabitable planet whose surface has a sulfur dioxide for atmosphere, wildlife bigger than elephants on average, and extremely hot. Like 150 degrees Celcius hot. This system had no space station, had no comm buoys, and definitely had nothing of interest.

So Solomon ordered them to move in to check it out.

"I think ... it's some poor chap that got spaced," someone muttered, but everyone heard him on the bridge.

And indeed, as they got closer to the source of the signal, they saw a very humanoid form coming into detail.

"Some kind of monk?" one of the officers asked.

"Probably one of those pilgrims from other sectors that met a pirate or something. You know how the Muslims like to do their pilgrimage to Mecca," another replied.

"And you know that because?"

"I'm a Muslim. I think I know what I want to do. I still gotta have my own pilgramage, you know?"

"Well, I'll be. It is a man," Solomon muttered as the ship's camera finally locked in on the tiny speck of human. The human was dressed oddly. Brown robes and hood, it reminded Solomon of one of those medieval monks. Seems like the officer talking behind him got it right.

"Haul the poor bastard in. Let's see where he's from. At least, someone gets their husband's body back."

* * *

"And this was on that body?" I asked Solomon.

The man, still in salute and not easing, replied. "Yes, sir!"

"...Solomon, you can relax, you know."

There was a pause, one of hesitating quality, and then the man did relax. "Sorry, sir, if it bothered you."

"I was worried that you were going to have a stroke from the blood rushing to your face, captain," I chuckled. "But never mind that. Sit and tell me the full story," I ordered as I stared at the leather bound and diamond embedded book in front of me.

"We took in the body that we found in MZ-3399. The body didn't have any form of identification except for a tattoo on his back that looked like a snake eating its own tail. Outside of the clothes it wore, the book was the only thing it had, and none of the crew could read it."

I nodded. "Alright. Thanks for bringing this to me. I suppose I can try to solve this."

He saluted and left.

And I turned to the book. "Now..." I muttered as I flipped open the book to reveal a very old language. "How does a book written in Old Danish find itself in space, hmm?" I asked no one in particular, even as I directed my gaze across the language. "..Hmm, I'm going to need a linguist."

* * *

Solomon was out in space again. As much as he felt that his fleet needed some R&R, he knew that they also only had one more system to patrol through before they were to all receive their just rewards. So he ordered them out of the Onuxal shipyards and into the void.

"Five minutes to T-91 stargate, captain," his navigation officer, a former pilot veteran working to and from Quentius colony, reported.

"Any previous report of pirate activity on the other side?" he asked.

"No, sir. Just peace and quiet as far as the 2nd Freyr Scout Fleet saw."

Solomon scoffed. He knew the 2nd fleet's commander. A boisterous man who knew nothing of warfare and service. A goddamn mercenary who happened to have been in need of some cash to accept the generous duke's offer. 2nd fleet, unfortunately, was not under service of the duke or the empire. Rather, they were freelancers who had been imprisoned by the pirates when they were rescued. Since they had no possession, they agreed to work for the duke as freelancers.

'Still,' Solomon thought to himself. 'I doubt he didn't do a good job of his duty. What could go wrong?'

* * *

"What?"

I had been in the middle of deciphering the book with a Old Danish dictionary (that was a thing, apparently) when the news came in.

The AI secretary floating bodilessly using a holoprojector stuttered a bit as he spoke. "T-The 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet fell back from T-91 after meeting a sizable mechanoid fleet, my lord. They reported loss of three frigates and five corvettes, but nothing more...!"

I cut him off. "How many mechanoid ships are heading this way?" I asked with a snarl.

Mechanoids, I learned, were the human's boogeyman. Beyond simply multiplying whenever refined resources were made available to them (or taken from others), mechanoids killed everything that was not a mechanoid. Their psychic ships, which I've encountered before on my first visit to Quentius, made fighting them a hassle.

But a fleet capable of driving off the 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet? That had to be of simili-

"1 battleship and ninety frigates... milord."

I froze on spot.

Mechanoids were bringing in a _bloody battleship_?

"...Which direction were they heading in?"

"Towards here, sir."

"...Fuck."

To understand my reaction at the time, one must understand the capabilities of a single "battleship" title qualifying warship within the Escherian Empire. A battleship is capable of slugging thirty ton slugs at 50% of speed of light. Within a single battlefield, that is impossible to dodge.

"The situation just ... got out of hand," I muttered. "How many ships are available to us right now?"

"You can't mean to fight them off, milord!"

"Then am I suppose to let this station and everyone on it burn? And watch the colony on Quentius burn too?!"

The AI looked flustered and confused. "B-But this is going to be a lost battle, sir! You can't win against a battleship without at least five cruisers to match for each one battleship!"

"The Fifth can get to this system in time," I replied with conviction. And I believed in it too. I quickly called up the Fleet Commander's numbers.

"Yes, milord?" Commander Johnson took up the call. "You've called me on emergency, sir."

I was sweating at the thought of the impending doom, but I spoke with calm face and clear voice. "There is a fleet of a battleship and ninety frigates of mechanoid origin heading towards Onuxal, commander. I need you to halt your patrol and return immediately."

There was a pause before I heard frantic shouting in the background, and the background stars behind the commander swerve as his flagship took a sharp turn. Probably towards the closest stargate in whatever system they were in.

"You'll need to evacuate the station, sir."

"No."

The commander looked shocked. "My lord, you don't have anything to stand up against a battleship-"

"But if the station goes down, so does the entire sector. I have neither the time nor the resource to build a space station. I was lucky to have had one of this size in the first place. I'm not letting it fall to mechanoids who'll turn this station inside out and bolster their numbers," I replied calmly yet firmly after cutting him off. "I know that no ship I have at my disposal can stand up to the battleship. That's eactly why I'm having you return."

"Sir, we're at least two day's worth of travel out..."

"I know. We'll hold as long as possible, but you'll have to get here in half that time."

"... Understood. May the Emperor guide you."

"Godspeed."

The AI, whose name I kept on forgetting, just stared dumbfoundly at me. "You're serious." I suppose I could let the lack of honorifics slide. He must've been in some serious shock at my actions.

"Of course, I am," I replied with a nasty glare. "What do you think I am? Some blue blooded core world noble?"

"W-Well..."

"... I'm an Escher, boy. I lead by example. So go out there and get me the numbers I need!"

* * *

Unfortunately for Solomon, the mechanoid fleet caught up with them. The white and grey ships in their bulbous forms dropped out of FTL ahead of them.

Then they proceded to fire upon the 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet as they dropped out of their own FTL. Corvettes, being the wekaest and the fastest, dropped out of the FTL first, and were the first to be fired upon. Frigates were no better in that, a group of them containing majority of the fleet's frigates dropped out, only to get nuked on.

Then Fair Deal, other crusiers, and the rest of the fleet dropped out.

They were met with a spaceship graveyard, and a semi-circular formation of the mechanoid ships. The mechanoid battleship took the middle position,and the stargate, the path out of this system, was behind the mechanoids by a good light second (as far as the scanners could tell).

Then all of the mechanoid ships lit up with the familiar charging white light of kinetic lances.

"All ships evasive maneuver!" Solomon roared as the mechanoid fleet fired.

Solomon grunted as _Fair Deal_ shook from a direct hit to the starboard side. "Status!" he roared over the klaxons and the blares. There was a hiss somewhere in the background, and the sound of someone getting burned by steam venting.

"We're still floating!" static voice of the Chief Engineer of the Fair Deal shouted through the intercomm. "But get us out of here! The shield units are about to blow!"

Solomon grimaced.

Shield units don't blow up unless you overcharge it, which is exactly what Solomon did to provide Onuxal Station more time for evacuations.

"Samuel?!" he shouted across the bridge towards the pilot.

No luck, the man was facing down without the back of his head.

Solomon cursed his luck and ran up to the pilot's seat. He pushed the dead body of his friend's cousin's third cousin twice removed, and jumped into the seat.

Thankfully, like all down-to-earth and hardy Escherian models, the primary control was joystick.

"Bless the emperor!" he roared as he pulled it down, and Fair Deal turned up.

Just in time to turn a piercing shot from the bowside into a glancing shot. The birdge and the entire ship still shook.

He quickly activated the ship's FTL, and the ship just jumped towards wherever it was facing, only to drop out of it when Solomon forced stop the FTL generator. "All ships!" he shouted after turning on the fleet QEC. "Retreat to Onuxal! _Retreat to Onuxal_!" Then he turned the ship as fast as possible towards this star's stargate, and hit the FTL again.

The inertia dampener must have been slightly damaged because when the ship jumped this time, Solomon felt it. His back struck the seat and he gasped as his own spit ran up his nose from his mouth.

Fair Deal dropped out of FTL two seconds later.

Solomon groggily looked over the radar and found five frigates. One just jumped through, making it four.

"Where are the mechanoids?" he ground out through the comm.

"Chasing us," one of the frigate captains replied. "ETA 1 minute at max. Ten seconds at minimum."

"Hurry up and jump through-"

The ship shook as something exploded, again.

"Fuck ten seconds, they just hit us!" someone shouted before there was an explosion. Smoke and fire quickly filled up the bridge, and then the firefoam activated, covering everything in a lair of ice-cold fire-retardant foam.

Solomon quickly looked around the bridge.

Everyone else was either unconscious, the damaged inertia FTL jump made them unconscious, or was thrown off their feet by the latest explosion. "REPORT!"

Someone quickly got up. Solomon recognized the girl as a Returner. She also wore the badge of a combat marine, not a technician. "Uhhh Uhh... the Fifth and seventh deck has been breached! The shield units are gone, too!"

"Tell me what's on the rada-"

Another shake. This time, the ship groaned loudly.

"The rear is gone!"

Solomon checked his own screens. Thankfully, the FTL, life support, and sublights were still active.

"Fuck it," he hissed as he slung his ship towards the stargate.

In the millisecond he did so, the stargate recognized _Fair Deal_ as a spaceship, and did what it was programmed to do. It grabbed the damaged spaceship, and flung it.

Then it saw the mechanoids and didn't move to help their own jump. Mechanoids proceeded to destroy the stargate.

* * *

When Solomon came out of the stargate jump, he flew across the bridge and struck the cushioned pilot's seat, where he crumpled up. "Fuckkkk...!" he hissed as he cradled his shoulder. "Definitely popped out." He looked around the bridge.

Half of the people were dead, and the other half was either unconscious or wounded.

"Anyone else alive on the ship?!" he roared, hoping that the intercomm picked it up.

"'Live here, skippa!" someone reported. "Second 'Gineer. Chief's dead with the shields!"

Solomon clicked his tongue. "Marines?!" he shouted again as he slowly got up. With his good arm, he looked up the system, saw that it was Quentius, and sent the _Fair Deal_ flying towards the Onuxal Station.

"We good, skipper," a deep baritone voice reported. "One of us is a splatter on the wall, but the rest of us are all fine. Didn't know shit made that kind of color with blood."

"Okay... Then someone check the bloody inertia dampener!"

He looked out of the bridge into space as he waited for a word on the status of his ship, feeling that slight tug of acceleration. Either the inertia dampener was being fixed or it was still broken, if the tug told him anything.

Outside of his ship, several other frigates were in similar position.

...

Where's the rest of the fleet?

"Don't fuckin-"

Then three cruisers were barreling out of the stargate's fling, each of them spinning awkwardly.

He relaxed in his chair. Damn, those bitches scared the shit out of him!

"Glad most of us made it!" he shouted through the fleet comm.

"It's gonna take more than some mechanoid to put me down, commander!"

"...Where's the rest?"

"Crusier _Vaditta_ went down. The ship and her captain took down ten of those mechanoid frigates," someone from a free floating frigate replied. "Rest of the frigates were too clumped up when the battleship fired off its scatterfire missiles. I doubt more will be coming through. By the way, can anyone haul this frigate back to Onxual? Our sublight's gone as are most of our steering thrusters."

"Got ya, boy," one of the cruiser captain replied. "Grabbing you with a tractor now.

"How long til they get here?" Solomon asked.

"Frisky here, AI of _Bouncy Ball_ and its captain. If they follow the usual mechanoid tactics, they'll be busy scrapping the stargate our construction fleet built last week. Since Quentius System is -"

"Number, Frisky!" Solomon growled.

"Two day. Thirty minutes to destroy and recycle the stargate, and whole two days to get from there to us with their FTL speed put into calculations with the distance between Quentius System and AV9-S009's distance betwene 2.7 parsecs."

"Enough time for us to get back to Onxual, and get emergency repairs."

* * *

To Solomon's surprise, he found the duke coming to meet him when he entered the hangar.

'Ah shit, he's gonna blame me for losing him so much ships,' he thought to himself. He let out a sigh before steeling himself.

"You okay, son?"

And that put him off guard.

"Bah?"

"Seems like you got a little concussion. Swear I saw you walking straight... no matter. Medic, have the commander here checked out! He may have concussion!"

"W-Wait, sir, you aren't going to blame me?"

The duke looked at him funny. "Captain, do I look like one of those blue blood nobles?" he asked Solomon. "Have I acted like that to you?"

"N-No, sir! You've been a benevolent ruler from I saw."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir." And he was being honest. What kind of noble directs his own profit towards improving the lives of homeless on station and on the planet? Almost no one did so, and Solomon knew that. So when he inadvertently blurted out that he thought the duke was benevolent, he meant it,

The duke shrugged. "Just get yourself checked out. I'm not going to blame a captain for meeting a goddamn mechanoid fleet by accident. The fact that you managed to pull out three of the four cruisers of the fleet says something about how well you drilled them, though."

Solomon flushed a little at the praise but remained stoic.

"Now, get your own injuries treated, captain. I'll not be having an injured captain leading the upcoming battle."

* * *

 _FTL of the Galaxy_

 _Do not be surprised: humans use different FTL than the majority (majority being 66% of the other population) of the galaxy. Their FTL is based on space and gravity manipulation, which requires a shit ton of fuel compared to Element Zero's comparatively none. On the other hand, best of human FTL devices are dozen times better in linear FTL speed, but considering that for every fifty lightyears or so, they have to use up one of "antimatter cores" or thirteen times more Helium-3 to fuel their FTL generators, the price to use the human FTL is high. The Element Zero drives are, on the other hand, capable of accessing Mass Relays, which are lightyears ahead of human stargates._

 _So the difference in the two systems are thus: FTL speed, fueling, and long-distance FTL device capabilites._


	6. Arc II: Troubles End

I watched anxiously as the last of the defending forces finished their repairs and adjustments for the oncoming storm. I watched as the captains of the fleet give their officers a basic rundown of what was going to happen. There were some farewells from the crewmen of one ship to another, the desperate cries of a soon-to-be orphan crying for his mommy, and ...

It reminded him too much of World War II, and this was supposed to be a "minor skirmish" in the books of the empire.

What irked me was not the fact that men and women were going to die defending what was precious to them.

Oh no. I had faith that we were going to win this engagement. The Fifth Patrol Fleet was well on its way to making in time for the battle, so there was a guarantee that we were going to win.

No, what irked me was that because of the current situation in the empire, the sacrifices of these "rimworld colony volunteers" were going to go down in history as mere numbers. That the family would get no direct support from the empire because it does not offer the "rimworld colonists" who were fully aware of the risk they took to live in the "fringes of law" and thus the "law does not apply in full" to them.

A load of fucking bullshit.

Unfortunately, once more, I was powerless to do anything about it. I could provide the families of whoever died out of my own pocket, but how many men and women would die before my own pockets cannot handle the strain?

In a situation like this, the very best that I could do was to insure that the crew of the 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet did not die in vain nor did they die if there was any other option available.

Actually, it was because of this that I had ordered the attachment of additional escape pods to each of the ships in the 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet and the 2nd Freyr Scout Fleet.

The total cost of additional escape pods was a staggering thirteen thousand imperial credits, a huge sum considering that a new frigate manufactured in the Core Worlds would cost quarter of that, but if it saves even 1% more crewmen from death, it would be worth it (outside of moral and ethical reasons, training new men and women to crew my ships would be cost in money and time).

So I watched grimly as the last of these ships left the hangar and took on a defensive position around the station in a spherical formation.

Three cruisers, thirty frigates, fifty corvettes was not enough to take on a battleship and eighty frigates, but it was all we had until the Fifth Fleet arrived.

So... we waited.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They came.

I was at Onuxal Station's Commander Center, a grey and blue room filled with tactical overlays and screen at the heart of the station, when the mechanoid warp was sighted a mere light second from the space station.

It was both a beautiful and terrifying sight that I saw through the eyes of camera drones converging upon the warp signature. The mechanoids, who had mastered a field of science unknown to man, opened up a _bloody tear_ in space. It was a multitude of colors that reminded me of a thin oil layer on a puddle on a sunny day after a rainy day the day before. It was the closest thing to how I would describe it at any rate.

A white and grey mass emerged from the tear, and my ships converged on it and fired. The mechanoid battleship, a long ugly fucker that looked too much like a hairless maggot, pulled out all of its kinetic lance turrets and fired.

"Fall back! Don't get too close to its anti-fighter turrets, corvettes!" I shouted over the comm as same alien frigates poured out of the tear in space.

And to my surprise, a full contingent of them -thirty of the mechanoid frigates- headed straight for Onuxal Station without a care for the damage they were taking. They were flying towards the station in a "wrecking ball" formation...

Something was off-

"Cruisers, focus fire on that ball of mechanoid frigates," I commanded. "Don't let it get close to the station."

"Affirmative, my lord," Frisky, the captain of the crusier _Bouncy Ball_ , replied and he steered his mighty ship and its plasma guns. The squadrons of corvettes and frigates under Captain Frisky's command circled around from their projectory and headed towards the frigates as well.

 _Bouncy Ball_ 's "Ugoner" 1.1T Heavy Plasma Cannon -a monstrosity that fired burning, one ton plasma slugs at tenth of light speed at fifty rounds per minute- fired.

The plasma slugs struck the left center of the mechanoid frigate sphere. The red, hot, and definitely lethal slugs melted away the shields of the frigates and melted away the hulls. The weight and the speed of the slug pushed the struck frigates into the formation ... and they were fired upon by their own allies?

I watched in confusion as the frigates that tilted into the formation were destroyed by their own allies, but it thinned their numbers and revealed to everyone what was at the center of the formation.

I paled as I saw what laid within it.

A transport vessel.

"They're trying to land troops on the station! Destroy that formation at all cost!" I hissed over the comm.

But it was too late.

The mechanoids rammed into the station's shield, tore through it with their mass and speed, and slammed into the station's hangars.

The command center was thrown into chaos.

The station's klaxons springed to life.

"Warning: mechanoids have been sighted aboard the station. Warning: mechanoids have been sighted aboard the station. Warning: mechanoids have been sighted aboard the station."

The command center's main screen quickly changed to show the hangar.

The transport had rammed deep inside, and mechanoids, especially those scythers, were pouring out.

"Crap," I muttered to myself. "Alright, everyone suit up! Anyone not on crucial systems are to join me. Let's kick these dumb fuckers off our home!"

The technicians and the soldiers in the command center saluted and quickly went about.

Unfortunately, I was running on skeleton crew as it was with the command center, so all I got from my command was a measly fifteen soldiers and three technicians, barely enough to make three squads.

"Five soldiers to one technician," I commanded, and they quickly set themselves up. I nodded before leading them out of the command center into the hallways. The door slid open with barely a hiss, and we were met with a dark hallway lit up with the red of the klaxons. "I'll lead your squad," I said, pointing to one of the three. "Your squad remain with the command center. Make sure they remain safe, got it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"The last squad will guard this hallway."

"Sir, isn't it better to take us with you? I don't think the automated defenses could support you well enough with the numbers we saw on the screen," the technician of the last squad asked.

I grimaced. The last time I saw the numbers on the screen was somewhere around five hundred scyther mechanoids and fifteen of those huge "centipede" mechanoids.

Unlike humans, mechanoids felt no fear nor pain. Once engaged in battle, they can fight as long as they are functional, even playing dead sometimes to catch a poor soldier offguard. Five hundred unfeeling and super-disciplined soldier and their fifteen tanks was not what I wanted to face with only one squad.

But there was at least hte automated defense systems.

Mechanoids were awful at evolving their electronic warfare systems compared to standard AI and TC of the empire. Because of this, all automated defense systems had Ais and Tcs "manning" them to prevent mechanoids from circumventing them.

Again, one squad and automated defenses was not enough, but that was _all I bloody had_.

"It'll have to do," I muttered. "Let's move out!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

While a new battle blossomed within the Onuxal Station, the space battle continued without pause.

The survivors of the "wrecking ball" crash now turned away from the station and fired upon the Freyr warships closing in on them. The faster corvettes easily dodged the linear and uncalculated first strikes, and the Bouncy Ball rained plasma hell upon them as the mechanoid frigates tried to turn and take out the annoying corvettes.

Then the frigates arrived.

Overwhelemed by numbers, the mechanoid frigates took kinetic, thermal, explosive, and even rad(slang for electromagnetic) hits from all sides. One by one, their shields gave in, and then their hulls caved in.

The explosion of the mechanoid frigate closest to _Bouncy Ball_ was the start of a visual cacophonoy of mechanoid destruction. Almost in synchro, mechanoid frigates -once gleaming white and grey in the light of Quentius' red star, exploded in blue and white.

Frisky grinned as it commanded his crusier back towards the mechanoid battleship and its escorts.

Without warning, he fired off a burst of plasma slugs, and they all struck the battleship's shield. It clicked its tongue in disappointment before joining its crusier brethrens.

"How's the situation?" he asked out loud to the other cruiser captains.

"Not great," someone replied with a grunt. Something seemed to have exploded in their background. Frisky scanned for any heavily damaged cruiser and saw the _Evionet_ listing to the side.

"Thrusters hit?"

"No. They took out the entire backside generator. We're floating dead in the void."

Frisky sent a message of confirmation. "Mechanoid BB shields?"

"Almost down," captain of _Raven Song_ replied. "My ship's almost down too. I have to pull back."

"Fire as you go," Frisky recommended/ordered.

Raven Song, a thick raptor shaped, blue and olive painted, and the support cruiser of the entire battle force, snapped around in an impressive feat of piloting, and warped away. "We'll be back once the armor is patched up."

"Don't be late, ya hear?!" Frisky responded. As he was about to shout some more over the intercomm, Bouncy Ball shook. "Report!"

"One of the damn mech frigs just rammed itself into our rear shield! Loada shell makers there just popped!"

A rather slangful way of saying "all of our shield unit at our rear exploded."

"Any boarders?"

"None. They blew themselves up."

Frsiky grunted. "Guess we're not turning our back to them ever," it muttered to itself, glaring at mechanoid battleship through its digital displays. "Load up the plasma cannons again! I want to be first one up pop that bastard's shi-!"

"Evionet just took a critical hit! We're abandoning ship! I retreat-!" the captain of the Evionet shrieked through the comm before her ship blew up.

Frisky blinked with his mechanical body (rather than with his digital avatar).

"Aw shit."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The hallways was now the battlefield between the defenders and the mechanoids. Bodies of both mechs and humans lay on the wide hangar entrance where the automated defenses had held out until my squad arrived. The hallway between the hangar was where I then turned into the defense point since it narrowed closer to the entrance, which was where we were.

I shouted in surprise as a kinetic lance bolt zipped by my face, searing the tip of my nose, but my reflex took over, and I ducked before my head could be made into a fleshy, red cheese.

"Fuck!" I hissed my seared nose met the cold, dirty metal pavement. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I pulled out my EMP pistol (I had some ordered after my first encounter with the mechanoids), and shot a few of the scyther out in the open. Each of the blue EMP bolt that struck the scyther caused them to halt, and I pulled out my other weapon, a Hunter brand kinetic gel carbine, and unleashed my fury upon the stunned scythers.

The scythers, having been stunned, couldn't dodge, and the rain of furnace heat-resisting, metal punching, and definitely awesome purple gels ripped through the titanium-steel alloy shell of the scyther mechnoids with a loud pop.

Kinda like bubble wrap pop but about a hundred pops put side by side exploding in my eardrums over the course of a single second.

"Got four more coming over here!" one of the enforcers shouted from behind me.

Yeah, so enforcers.

They were similar to marines in training and discipline. Unlike the marines, the enforcers were further educated in the matters of law, civil rights, and counterterror tactics because while marines go out to fight, enforcers ... enforce.

I nabbed myself some of the new recruits from one of the Inner Sector academies a few months back, and well... Jenny here was one of them.

She was a blond haired girl with average height (for a woman). She lacked a lot of those muscles that her peers (regardless of gender) seemed to carry around, but she made up for it with scary aim.

From behind a cover, she pulled out a silver grenade, and pressed down on it hard to the ground. After a second, it lit up and with a stationary spin behind her cover, she spun and flung what I recognized as EMP grenade towards the mechanoids.

The bomb went off with a hiss, shorting out all mechanoids too close to it (which was, sadly, only two), and stunning the rest.

Jenny and I pulled out our primaries and reduced all mechanoids to scrap metal with a hail of gunfire.

"You know, Jenny, your aim is still scary," I muttered to her as we quickly got back into cover.

She just grinned cheekily at me. "You know how good I am, old man."

I grimaced. "Get off me, cheeky brat."

She didn't retort, but did so. "Anyway, I don't got no more of those EMP nades."

"Figured as much," I muttered. "You used them too frequently." I peeked over the cover, a rubble made from the twisted ruins of the demolished pedestrian entrance into the hangar, only to come back down faster when the scyther mechanoids aimed at me. "Okay... I'm out of ammo on my rifle," I grumbled as I set the carbine aside. 'I'll pick you up later, hon.'

Jenny didn't reply. She looked around us and grimaced.

I didn't blame her.

Currently, we were wading in the blood of the poor bastards who didn't take the fifty or so scythers that the automated defenses didn't manage to kill.

They ignored half of what they should've learned in their training academies -mainly take cover when not firing, and sometimes even when firing- and just "sprayed and prayed."

Damn young things and their new phrases.

The dumb fuckers got a bullet to the head each. Tyler (black haired, green eyed weirdo) got three for his troubles of trying to gain their attention by screaming at the top of his head. He got their attention, alright.

They weren't dumb. I met Tyler personally. I think the pressure of being in an actual battle kinda short-circuit the boy. Too bad.

"You get used to it," I told her before I mentally counted out how many were remaining. "... There's a whole bunch that are missing."

"There are?"

"There were supposed to be five hundred here. The AD gunners reported destroying only two hundred sixty seven, and we just took out a fifty or so thanks to my decision to stock up on EMP weapons."

"So... where are the rest?"

I placed my hand over the earpiece. "Oi, command, where's the rest of the mechs?" I asked before I shot up from my cover and ripped the head off of the last scyther mechanoid in the hangar bay.

" _We see them moving towards ... your office, sir._ "

"My office?"

" _Yes, sir._ "

"That's funny. Do they think I'm there? I'm obviously here at the hangar bay."

" _No idea, sir._ "

I shrugged "Alright, Jenny. Looks like we're going to go destroy some mechs heading to my office," I said as I reached out and grabbed a relatively undamaged looking scyther mech's charge lance before heading into the space station's hallways again.

She looked at me funny even as she followed me. "Your office?"

"Apparently. They must be after my porn stash."

She gave me a deadpan stare. "I didn't know you joked, sir."

"..."

"Sir?"

"..." I quickly walked ahead, ignoring Jenny as part of the joke.

"Sir?!"

I think she's taking it too seriously.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Command, what's your status?" I asked as Jenny and I walked up the last bit of emergency stairs to the station floor where my office was. I narrowed my eyes when I saw the tail end of a scyther mechanoid turn corner just as I walked out of the stairwell.

" _All good here. A dozen mechs came, but our squads took them out, sir,_ " the communications technician replied smoothly. " _And heads up, sir. Five scythers where you're heading_."

"Gotcha." I turned to Jenny. "You heard, yes?"

She nodded.

I edged along the wall and then peeked around.

Scythers were indeed heading towards where my office was.

Again, the question was: what were they after?

The fifty frigates they used to shield and then ram into Onuxal could've been better used to fight against my fleet, and yet, they deployed them as a transport's meat shield.

Why?

I charged up the lance, and fired.

The scyther in the back went down like a sack of potatoes, and the others screeched as they whirled around to see who killed their ally.

Jenny put a bullet in their main CPU, one per mechanoid, from the other end of the hundred meter hallway.

They just shut down after that.

I whistled. "Damn girl. Your aim is scary as ever."

She winked as her left bionic eye lit up in red. "Well, I do have my advantages."

I rolled my eyes before lighting my own eyes. "You mean these?"

She reared back. "W-Wh-? You're a bionic too?! ... sir?" she asked with a timid honorific at the end. "Didn't know you were. Nobles don't like bionics..."

"Do I look like your regular noble? I'm starting to get tired of all of these comparisons," I grunted. I put a hand on my earpiece. "How many more?"

" _Thirty three to go, sir. Your floor's AD gunners took some out._ "

"Tell them I said thanks."

" _Will do, my lord._ "

I looked to Jenny. "Seems like our workload got lighter, enforcer. Let's not dilly dally, aight?"

"Yes, sir."

We rushed forward, and made three turns (left, left, right) before we caught sight of the last of the mechanoids on this station.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Private Vincent Maylers groaned aboard the _Bouncy Ball_ as its crazy AI captain took the crusier on a joy ride ... while the inertia dampener was damaged.

He wanted to hurl, but couldn't as his own gastirc juice was forced back down into his stomach after a particularly harsh push "upward."

There was a screech before that "upward" changed to sideways, and Vincent found himself flying across the cafeteria and into a wall. Thankfully, he was fully armored when he landed face first. The visor on his helmet cracked a little, though.

"We're gonna die!" someone shrieked in the cafeteria before one of the pots from the kitchen struck that person's chest, hurling whoever that was and the contents of the pot out of the cafeteria.

"...I think I'll volunteer for a station patrol duty next time," Vincent muttered to himself quietly before there was another swift turn, and he found himself stuck on the ceiling, spread out like an eagle.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

There were advantages and disadvantages to being an AI.

Disadvantages varied from place to place, but it usually had to do with distrust, inability to feel strong emotions, and inability to feel carnal feelings, something the organics always talked highly about.

On the other hand, advantages was something like this-!

Frisky cackled as he pushed _Bouncy Ball_ 's midpoint thrusters and rear thrusters to maximum, causing the cruiser to halt in space, loosing vast amounts of its momentum to the negative acceleration. In doing so, it dodged a particularly nasty beam of laser that was about to hit up some several kilometers ahead.

The crew shrieked out their disapproval of such a maneuver over the comm.

Frisky laughed in reply.

And made another sharp turn.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Solomon cursed as his ship lurched.

The mech BB was also down, but its cannons wouldn't stop firing!

"Frisky, keep that battleship's attention on you!" he shouted over the comm.

" _Alright, my crazy commander! My crew's gonna have your head for this though!_ "

Solomon then grimaced as he watched what was supposed to be a crusier dive and turn like a fighter, albiet tad bit slowly in turning, against the charge lance fires and lasers of the mech BB. Some of those maneuvers were sick and awesome to look at, but he knew that Bouncy Ball had its inertia dampener damaged.

"I don't doubt that for a second," he muttered to himself. "All ships, focus fire on that mechanoid battleship!" he roared over the comm.

He was soon greeted with a colorful array of leaser weapons being fired -some invisible- and many plasma slugs being hurled. They all impacted the mechanoid battleship... and the blasted thing finally blew up.

"BOOYAH!" Solomon shouted as the whole fleet cheered.

"This is Onuxal Command! The duke has been injured by the boarded mechanoids! I repeat, the duke is in critical condition!"

Those words chilled everyone's bones, and every ship steered themselves towards Onuxal.

Duke David Escher Senior was a noble worth serving under, and the only blue blood capable of being an actual leader. They weren't about to let him get killed!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

There was no pain.

There should've been, had my body been still mostly flesh, but it wasn't, and thus I did not feel pain.

No, but I felt anger.

Jenny's corpse lay silently next to me with a huge hole in her torso.

My left arm was also gone, so I was firing with only my right.

[Warning], an internal voice in my head pinged me. It must be one of those chips installed in my brain, I mused even as I shot the head off of a mech. One behind it fired its lance, and it nearly struck my neck. I ducked behind cover.

[Warning: body strength restraints are damaged].

...

The fuck? Body strength restraints?

I frowned as I thought about, even as my body used my remaining hand and feet to hold Jenny's gun and reload it.

My body was bionic. Naturally, bionics are stronger than original human bodies, even those boosted with genetic alterations. In fact, bionics are even better than simple prosthetics in terms of durability, strength, and speed.

Yet, why was everything about me ... so human?

[Warning: body strength restraints failing. Two minutes to complete failure].

Fuck... Okay, first off, was this failure good or bad for me?

I aimed out of cover and fired, missing. The next shot struck the chest cavaity a mech.

With a growl, I ducked back down.

They were fifty meters away when I killed the previous one. When I killed this mech, they were less than twenty meters from my position.

[Warning: body strength restraint failure imminent].

I took a deep and let it out slowly.

[Body strength restraint failed].

...

...

Nothing changed.

I pulled at the gun to reload it, but it broke apart in my hands.

What the fuck?

...

The broken pieces moved slowly too.

I peeked over the cover, and the mechs were moving slower than their usual speed.

That's odd.

I ducked back under and looked around. There was no other weapon around me.

I looked over the cover again... and the charge lance was firing slowly?

Okay, this has now moved on from odd to freaky.

I ducked back under and looked forward. The exit was covered with metal shards and debris; I couldn't leave that way.

"...ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

I frowned.

I placed my hand on the earpiece. "What the hell is going on, command? Everything slowed down."

"ssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrr? Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyoooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuu-"

I stopped listening. It was a pain to listen.

So fact #1: time slowed down, or at least my perception of it did. Regardless of how time was moving around me, I still moved, thought, and behaved in "normal" speed.

Fact #2: this happened right after my brain chip informed me that the "body strength restraint" had failed.

...

Holy shit.

Body strength restraint. Bionic.

It was a restraint so I wouldn't have to live with this! I was too strong, processing everything too fast! It was a literal restraint on _everything_ I was so I can live a normal life!

And it just broke.

My face also broke as a grin split my face in two.

I slowly stood out of cover. "Come at me, lil bitches!" I roared and jumped at them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Someone who was watching the screen connected what the camera was witnessing to the public channels. Everyone ended up watching what was going on.

They watched as their duke lept out of cover with a speed matching the elite royal guards at their annual tournament and smahed through the mechanoids with strength unparalleled.

Every time the duke punched, a mech fell. Every time he kicked, a mech split in two.

Then there was just two left. The duke and the last mechanoid.

There was a pause.

The audience gulped. Some argued that a "fatally injured" man should not be able to move that fast. Others suggested that the duke must have bionics, which were extremely expansive.

The duke lunged with his right arm.

The scyther abandoned shooting for what they were named after: attacking with their scythe-like forearms.

The duke's right hand pulled back in a feint. The scyther overreached.

Another lunge. An attempt to dodge.

...

The last mechanoid to invade Freyr Sector's capital fell with crushed neck.

The crowd let out a cheer of glorious victory.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _Admiral Jin's Guide to Dealing with Mechanoids!_

 _Soldier, you must know three things when dealing with mechanoids._

 _One, they are diverting most of their processing power to something else all of the goddamn time, so don't expect them to be smart. They will forgo any sort of strategy and tactic in favor of "rush and swarm." So have a lot of trusty bullets, because those pebble shavings from Cit race guns won't do shit!_

 _Two, they are metal, not flesh, no matter how soft their bellies look like._

 _Three, they do not bleed, so you must kill them by destroying one of the following for a complete shutdown of a unit: main CPU (in the head), battery (in the chest), or main wiring center (neck)._

 _That is all._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\


	7. Aftermath I

I groaned as time finally reasserted itself to a normal routine, aka everyone talked in understandable speed, not the slow-motion bullshit I had to endure for the past four standard days.

"Finally!" I cackled as my perception returned to normal. "Arghh... no one is talking with a super low tone. I'll never be able live if I had to live through that constantly. Oh blissful heaven, I'm free from that hell-!"

"Ahem."

I nervously laughed a little, knowing that I did get a little carried away there. "Alright, alright, doctor. No need to interrupt my special moment," I said playfully.

Doctor Han Solo, born to a pair of respectable geeks (what else would you call the couple who designed the Shredder-class Destroyer? The only class of its kind designed specifically to take out frigates by the droves _by itself_ ) who loved pre-spaceflight entertainment too much, was the head of all medical affairs on Onuxal Station (appointed three months ago by me). Unfortunately, he was also a no-nonsense and all business kind of a personality, so my tirade there probably irritated him.

"My lord, you are all checked out. Normally, I would do a thorough week long observation in the hospital here, but your reaction demonstrates to me clearly that you are neither willing nor capable of staying in the hospital for a week," he grunted.

"Incapable? Me?"

"You would wake people up in the middle of the night with your snack cravings. Like you have for the past four days."

I shrugged. "Can't help it."

"Which is why I'm giving you a clear bill for you to sign so you can leave, sir. I have other patients to look to, so hurry up, please."

"Alright, alright," I grinned. I was too happy to care about the lack of proper decorum, and I signed my signature on the datapad he offered me after I took a quick look over it.

"Thank you. Now leave, my lord."

I waved him off and did so.

After leaving the hospital, the only building in the entire middle tier (basically, space station living and business floors for the middle class) that was painted completely white and gray with a single green cross hung up before the entrance, I decided to enjoy a nice walk to my office rather than to take a speedcar there.

There were two reasons behind that decision. The first was the need for a personal observation of how the repairs were going. The hospital and the middle tiers may not have been struck by the mechs during the invasion, but you never know.

The second reason was to talk with the people in the middle tier. While I didn't do this often, I knew my history. Good leaders always take good care of their people, and one of the easiest ways to do so is to simply walk among and talk to them.

"My lord!"

I glanced over my shoulder, and saw an enforcer jogging up to me.

I grimaced as I was reminded of the other enforcer who had laughed in the face of death with me.

Jenny died too soon.

"Something the matter, son?" I asked him with a smile.

Enforcers were very unusual people. Jenny was unusual because she was someone who was relatively "normal" among "abnormals." Her behaviors would not have been tolerated by any senior enforcer officers in the academy.

"Just wondering how you're doing, sir," he replied with a salute.

"At ease."

Which is why I was also abnormal. Enforcers are supposed to be stoic, calm, guarded, and the ever present "big brother's hounds" that kept both the radical and moderates from going too far physically. As a result, enforcers were generally introvert in social circles.

Now, this meant I was abnormal because for some reason, all of the enforcers kept on adding me to each of their small list of friends. Was it the way I talked? Perhaps it was how I behaved. I always did treat them as if I was an officer in the army rather than a duke.

… Wait, that wouldn't be it. What the hell was it, really?

"Just checking up on me, huh?" I asked. "You have time to walk and talk, enforcer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then come with me," I said as I resumed walking. "How has the station been in the past four days?" I asked.

"Cheerful, sir."

"How so?"

The enforcer turned its masked face to me, and I knew there must be some sort of a grin there behind the mask. "Well, sir, we're proud."

I raised an eyebrow. "Proud?"

"Yes, sir. With nothing but four cruisers and less than fifty frigates, we managed to beat back a mech battleship and ninety frigates, and we barely had any casualties."

I grunted. "I suppose that makes sense," I conceded. "Still don't know the exact situation with the mechanoids."

The enforcer paused for a second before catching up to me. "So … you really weren't 'alive' until a year ago, sir?" he asked tenatively.

I nodded. I saw no issue with the question, though it was starting to become a bit of a annoyance. I enjoyed holding it over others for the first few times, but now it was a hassle.

"You're the father of the Founding Escher?"

"I am, but can you tell me what exactly is the big deal with this 'Founding Escher' deal? It's not like he was the guy who founded the kingdom." The enforcer looked flustered; his body language was too open with showing shock. The way he backpedaled slightly and the way his arm coiled around his body a bit. "What?" I asked.

Again, the enforer had to compose himself. "Sorry, sir," he responded. "Just didn't … expect this."

"How I talk?"

He nodded hesitantly.

I shrugged. "Though I was born to the lower rungs of the British nobility, I grew up like a regular person. I joined the soldiers fighting against the Germans, and I climbed the martial ladder by simply doing what soldiers did. My life may not be that different from yours, son. If you exclude the fact that your crazy son decided to cyrostasisfy you and then have you be woken up hundreds of years later." Without giving the boy a chance to reply to that -which there was probably going to be none, because how do you respond to a story like that except disbelief?-, I talked on.

"I really looked forward to a quiet death, you see."

The enforcer didn't say anything.

"I was tired, my wife was dead, and all of my children -those I had been in contact with- were all living their life. I was no longer needed."

"But we need you now."

I stopped and looked at the enforcer before shaking my head. I've known from my interview with the Fifth Patrol Fleet's officers and noncoms that life as a commoner was not easy with greedy and cruel nobles outnumbering the good ones, but for an enforcer -someone who's been trained to be a dog of the law- to say that they need someone like _me_ here?

Again, I cannot stress enough that this empire was on the decline.

"Explain to me first why the 'Founding Escher' is so important, and then explain why you believe that the people need me."

It was going to be a long talk, but hey, I had a long way to go to my office and a lot of time to talk.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"So let me get this straight," I said as we finally reached my office. "The 'Founding Escher' is important to the empire because he was the one who set the plans for a lunar colony and thus the Kingdom of Escher?"

The enforcer, whose name was Yuri Gan, nodded.

"But couldn't the others after him just forgone with his plans? Wouldn't that make the one who decided to actually do the work be the one who should be called the 'Founding Escher'?" I asked.

The enforcer shook his head. "From what we learn about history, it was the Founding Escher who drilled into his sons the need for the start of a new nation away from the corruption, tangling ties, and lack of space on Earth. It was he who founded the corporation and then the funds and expertise needed to venture beyond Earth. It was he who developed some of the technologies we use to this day. Just like the bionics you possess, my lord."

I nodded. I suppose it was understandable. It was kind of like the Romulus and Remus. Romulus served as the first king of Rome, and he was also the one to have brought up the city-state to the degree of some historical notoriety. In essence, this 'Founding Escher' deal was about a person -and thus a figure people could point to-, not necessarily the effort.

Like all things in life, there were flaws in doing such a thing, but I wouldn't criticize it because it was an abstract policy that would only waste my time should I try to have it be removed.

"But why call the guy who actually succeeded in building the colony on Luna as the founder? Or at least, the builder?"

The enforcer was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. "History speaks of his … less than affable personality quirks and habits. I think the historians thought it best to not have such a person, regardless of his lineage, as someone of import."

I went along with it. "Okay. Now then, we have still yet to speak about why you believe that I am needed. I got time so, go ahead and speak.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Yuri Gan was a man.

He was a veteran.

He was an enforcer.

But above all, to his own eyes and that of his family, he was a person.

As a veteran and an enforcer of the military and the law of the empire respectively, he did his duty as he was called to it. He put down rebellions, crazy cults, and even mechanoids. But as a person, Yuri has had many doubt about himself, his job, and his status in life.

A commoner like him was going to end up as a number. He was going to disappear quietly at best. He was not super strong, super accurate with his guns, nor was a he good speaker. He knew that he was not likable except by a few (his wife, Tory, and his children, Susan, John, and Dimitrov).

As an enforcer, he was only as useful to society as how strong and fast he could wield his stun batons and his rifles. As a veteran, he was needed only for his experience in teaching others how to fight.

Blue bloods hated people like him, even though they hired his kind to enforce their laws in their demense. Commoners hated him because he was a "dog of the nobles."

And then this guy came along.

This great man. A royalty. Tall, strong, and commanding, and yet humble, gregarious, and kind, even to those everyone has already excluded from their groups.

A duke, a royalty, and a powerful man that David Escher Senior was, was willing to listen to a forgettable person like this Yuri Gan. Yuri respected him and swore himself to the man his fealty. And he wasn't the only one who thought and did so. People from all over the empire wanted a lord they could trust, respect, and depend on. He knew of many others, some enforcers, some businessmen, and some powerless nobles, flock to Duke David, who seemed oblivious to his own popularity.

It was a fucking miracle that a desolate place like the Freyr Sector became as populous, secure, and rich as it did in the span of an entire year with only a single patrol fleet -not even a grand fleet for a duke!- from the empire to help him.

It only made his loyalty to the man who listened to him and his concerns stronger. David did not boast. He did not gloat. He did not engage in useless rivalries with other nobles. He did not fight battles where his people would die for no reason.

He was a noble worth his title, and Yuri told David just that.

That he was the lynchpin to this entire sector.

That he was the reason why it had grown so strong in only a year.

That even smaller nobles flocked here.

That even the emperor must be impressed.

And to Yuri's shock, the duke accepted his reasoning, his praise, and his adulation, and simply said, "I thank you for putting so much of your trust in me."

Yuri went home after work to tell his family that he had been thanked by the duke.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I watched Enforcer Gan leave my office, and then finally allowed myself to frown.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Today marked the complete repair of both the two fleets and the space station. Speaking of fleets, the Fifth Patrol Fleet had been extremely miffed that they had been beat to glorious victory by a "bunch of makeshift, backwater, and undisciplined scout fleets." Of course, they laughed gleefully when I laid it out hard on the 2nd Scout Fleet's commander for missing something so big and so close to home.

Yes, today marked the day that this sector and I would move on from the largest mechanoid invasion the empire has seen in a decade.

This has finally allowed me to do what I had been wanting to do since the normalization of my bionic body.

The reason behind the mechanoid invasion. I held it in front of me, and wondered why mechanoids, who had mastered wormhole travel and psionics would come after a 9th century, leather bound, parchment using, and extremely-difficult-to-translate book talking about -of all things!- _magic_.

Yeah, I was shocked when I found the book in the secure compartment of a mechanoid as I personally went to rip apart their processors -to make sure they were dead, not to satisfy my thirst for violence.

Mechanoids hadn't gone towards my office to steal information or to kill me in an effort to distabilize the sector.

No.

They invaded this sector and this station … for an occult tome.

This had me curious. Actually, calling my feelings a mere curiosity would be pointing at a blue whale and calling it a jellyfish. It was not correct by context nor the extremity of what I felt.

It was a feeling that had been at the back of my head ever since I got my hands on this book, and it was now a crushing demand for me to _learn_. And by crushing, I meant crushing. I dreamed about reading the book. I talked to myself about how to best test what the book told me. I envisioned myself robed in the secrets the book held!

… When I first broke out of my daydreams, I quickly dismissed them as a mechanoid psychic trap caused by the book itself (I didn't care _how_ ), and so I locked it away, where I couldn't see.

But the feeling persisted. It didn't grow nor did it dissipate. It just sat there in my head.

A craving to learn. To uncover the secrets of … what exactly?

In the end, I gave up. I pulled the book out of the safe, and held it in front of me.

With a VI, I had the entire thing translated, so the book itself was no longer necessary, but I kept it. I had also not read any of the translation or the book itself beyond what I've already translated prior to the mechanoid invasion.

So I sat there with the _leather book found in space_ in my hands and wondered.

 _How?_

It was maddening. It was frightening. It was chilling.

But above all, it was curious.

I was curious.

So I put the book down, pulled out the translated copy on the holoscreen, and began to read.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"... He managed to do something on that scale?"

The man who asked the question was one of high importance to the Escherian Empire. His name was Conan de'Bartley, one of the three Admirals of the Imperial Escherian Navy.

Born fifty years before the First Contact War with the Turian Hierarchy, the man was born to the illustrious military family, the de'Bartleys. Known for their brilliant tactical mind in military, business, and education, the de'Bartleys were always sought after by all elements within the empire.

Conan decided to follow his grandfather's footsteps to become a member of the imperial navy. He rose through the ranks by doing one thing: "unwanted" removal.

By unwanted, Conan only believed that pirates, drug dealers, and all around life-ruiners were "unwanted." He may not be a liberal like the emperor, but he didn't believe that difference in ideology was enough to label someone as unwanted, even if his family thought so.

He led engagements after engagements. He made connections with his family friends (admirals and generals as well as nobles and the royalty), made sure his accomplishments were made well known, and rose through the ranks by ensuring that his rival's accomplishments were downplayed just enough for his effort in downgrading their efforts to not be noticeable.

He didn't disregard others for his personal achievement! Oh no no no... A trait like that would've been found by the Promotion Board before he even reached commander. He did care for his troops and peers... just not when they were in his way of interfering with his own promotion.

Now, regarding this duke in the rimworld sector...

He was curious.

From the rumors running rampant in the capital and the naval headquarters, this new duke was an Escher, a royalty, from before the founding of the Kingdom of Escher. It was shocking, and Conan had gone straight to his friend to confirm.

The emperor, upon receiving him, told him all about it.

About his reanimated ancestor.

The Bloody Escher. The British general who claimed the most lives with his brutal tactics in World War II. The man who made the Germans tremble in fear at his mere mentioning. The man birthed, raised, and taught the Founding Escher.

The emperor had been so proud of himself, and Conan knew that he had the right to be so. To have finally fulfilled one of the duties passed down from generation to generation in his family would have done the same for him too.

Conan frowned.

 _But why?_

Why did the mere mention of the man make him so nervous? Like the chill he felt fight against those stealth mechanoids in his youth or the terror he felt as he watched a tiny unassuming bomb fall down from orbit to planetside. Why did he feel so uncomfortable?

He tapped the cigar on the ash tray before sighing.

Perhaps he should meet this man. Yes, maybe he felt this way because he didn't know anything about the "Father."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

While the empire acknowledged Duke David's accomplishment with distant applause and attention, their cousins in the Systems Alliance didn't spare the event much attention. To them, a "duke" was a powerful figure who had a fleet -or fleets- at his back and call. To use that fleet to defeat a threat to their own territory was no big feat. Perhaps it would deserve a small corner on Earth's military magazine, but nothing more.

… Or that is what the brass of the Alliance wanted it to be.

Just like their stronger neighbor, the Alliance had its own internal factions. The leaders of the Alliance, or the Brass Faction, did not like the empire. They believed the empire to be a spit on everything humanity had gone through. On the other hand, there was the common people, who had little to no interest in the empire because they were too busy leading their own lives.

Then there was the internet.

The glorious internet that survived the three Solar Wars and the Mechanoid War.

No longer a sub-culture, it was safe to say that internet was part of the mainstream, even its dark and deep webs. It is said that at least one in every five people in the entire Alliance (in fact, this applied to the empire as well) had their hands deep in the dark net or the deep web.

And in this mixing pot of all things "human," the video of Duke David Escher Senior fighting in the frontlines against the mechanoids hit viral status.

People talked about how fast the man was moving. How easily he dispatched the mechanoids that even the infamous Enforcers of the empire and the Marines of the Alliance had hard time dealing with in hand-to-hand combat.

They ooh'ed and aww'ed at the fluid movements and the swift kicks. The combat dance, as they called it, gained popularity, and even some in the military were beginning to propose such classes to their troops for a variety of reasons.

And among these internet denizen was one Taylor Sheperd, a venerated Alliance Marine general (retired).

Her wrinkly eyebrows furrowed together as she tried to think of where she had heard such name from. As a woman whose cousin's daughter had married into the Escherian Royal Family, she kept a close eye on the on-goings of the most powerful royalty in the entire galaxy. In fact, the reason why she was frowning was because she was racking her brains for the name of David Escher Senior.

She knew that there were several David Escher in the past, but she never heard of a David Escher Senior.

She gave up and typed it in on the internet, hoping something comes up.

…

"The hell?"

And something odd did come up.

Why did her search lead her to wikipedia of all places? And to a man seven centuries dead?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The Citadel Council was even less attentive of a backwater engagement with the local AI menace than the Systems Alliance. At least the Systems Alliance encountered the mechanoids on their own to pay attention, but the Citadel Council did not.

And thus, the emergence of a duke on a rimworld sector was largely ignored.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

" _Current State Affaris of Human Space"_  
 _by Jerivus Uncivious_  
 _Sociology Professor of University of Ocyintic Pantheon (3_ _rd_ _highest ranked university in all of Turian Hierarchy)_

 _Human space, or systems where the population of species homo sapien is majority, is divided into two clear sides: Empire and Alliance. The Empire's side include the following sovereign nations: Republic of Ohulsuiv, Outer Colony Confederation, and Dogavan Republic._

 _This divided space can then be further dissected into sectors. The Core Worlds is the most populous of the sectors, and centers around humanity's birthplace, the Sol System and Earth. Shaped like an oval from the "bird's eye view" of the galaxy," the human Core Worlds have nearly 70% of all humans living in it, despite the fact that there are only ninety three systems and fifty eight habitable planets in it. Please take note that 70% of all humanity includes both the Empire and the Alliance. It is estimated that the total population of the Core Worlds is around 155 billion sentient beings. Of this number, 0.1 billion is estimated to be immigrants and rescued slaves Citadel Council space. Again, note that while the number of habitable planets may be "small," there has yet to mention of "residential space stations" that humans oh-so-love and that not all habitable planets are colonized._

 _The number of colonies in the Core Worlds and space stations with more than five million people living there full time is estimated to be 804, making the average population density of the Core Worlds 192.7 million people per colony (space station with over 5 million people is considered a colony)._

 _The Inner Sector (or Innie) houses 25% of the human population, but has majority of the stars and habitable planets. There are 809 explored stars, 3,819 explored planets, and estimated 411 legal space stations. The total living colonies, space or planetside, is estimated to be 488, resulting in population density 11.4 million per colony. The other estimate of this sector is that there are more than fifteen thousand stars that have not been charted (this estimate does not count red dwarf stars)._

 _The Rimworlds is the largest, the most unexplored, and the most dangerous of all human space. There are estimated to be several million stars in the vast space with a network of established stargates that allow for full exploration of the sector possible. The last 5% of humanity lives there, and they are considered the hardiest of the bunch. While a few colonies can be considered a "core planet," which refers to the status of a colony as having reached at least a billion people and thus no longer a mere colony, most of the colonies are small and without daily luxuries people take for granted in both human Core Worlds and Council space. For example, surveys documented by the Escherian Empire guarantee that more than half of the colonies do not have planet-to-orbit turrets which protect the colony from pirates and mechanoids._

 _There is also the issue of Rimworld Warlords. These are people who have gained a large following of people and fleets to carve out their own fiefdoms in the Rimworld sector and beyond. While a few of these warlords get a visit from the empire and the Alliance should they go too far, most are left alone to terrorize the locals._

 _The estimated size of the entire Rimworld Sector is estimated to be around one hundred nineteen parsecs in average diameter with Sol at the center._

 _For comparison, the Core Worlds is about a hundred parsecs across, and the Inner Sector, which surrounds the Core Worlds, is about one hundred fifty parsecs across._

 _How did the Rimworld Sector come to be?_

 _Three people._

 _Emperor Timothy "Star lover" Escher of the Escherian Empire, Credit Billionaire Xavier Rockefeller of Systems Alliance (also the fifth owner of the third most populous planet in Systems Alliance, Barony of Rockefeller), and the "Explorer," a mysterious figure who appeared in the late 27_ _th_ _century and who is also responsible for most of the existing Rimworld charts known to the galaxy. The former two got their charts from the latter third, and in a feat of monetary expenditure not known to their generation nor observed in the previous five generations, spent half of their fortunes in installing more than a thousand stargates in a 3-D spider web like fashion through the Rimworld Sector, closing the gap towards the center of the galaxy by that much and drastically reducing travel time in said sector._

 _Why did they do this? Their reasons are not known and will never be, because soon after they accomplished this, Emperor Timothy died under suspicious circumstances, Xavier Rockefeller died in a spaceship crash, and the "Explorer" disappeared from existence._

 _However, their efforts has led to doubling of human space, and thus, they are widely acknowledged by humans as the most ambitious explorers of humanity. But I digress._

 _Soon afterwards, most of the Rimworld Sector was claimed by the Escherian Empire. They reasoned that because Emperor Timothy spent more money than Rockefeller in stargate installations, it was only right. They did, however, give most lucurative -at the time- of the Rimworld planets to the Rockefeller family, and the said family quickly made fifteen times more profit from the planets than what they spent._

 _Unfortunately, the Citadel Council cannot dispute the largely unsettled territory as not being the empire's territory due to lack of Mass Relay leading into most of the region._

 _That's right. Most._

 _There is one system where an unactivated tertiary Mass Relay sits in the Freyr Sector, Rimworld, Escherian Empire. The duke, who discovered it a few months ago, refused to have it opened. He stated in an internet interview that he did not wished to create more problems for himself. It was very wise of him._

 _The other is the Shanxi System, the only Rimworld Sector colony founded and owned by the Systems Alliance. It lies in the Joval Sector, which is ruled by Duke Agram al'Shavi._

 _With the joining the Systems Alliance into Citadel Council, three percent of the Core Worlds and twenty-seven percent of the Inner Sector has come under Citadel Council jurisdiction._

 _Overall, humans are in possession of 663 colonies and 295 space stations with an average of 161 million people in them , and the majority of them are in possession of the imperial powerblock. Citadel Council has 418 colonies and 119 space stations with an average of 350 million people in them. See that the Council colonies have higher average per colony than the humans, and the majority of them are in possession of the four most populous races: Turian, Salarian, Asari, and Human. The average population per colony used to be higher, but the introduction of the Systems Alliance into Citadel Council lowered it._

 _While this may not mean much, the numbers for those in science tell a great deal of story. First of all, imperial colonies do not experience the kind of population density that Council colonies feel, which discourages growth of large companies that meet the needs of heavily populated regions. This is especially true for the Rimworld Sector and the Inner Sectors. This economical background helps to spread the wealth of the empire more evenly, even with the presence of aristocrats that can tax the people on top of the imperial tax. Second, due to such lack of big companies outside of the more populated systems, production of highly refined good is limited. While there are big businesses that reach out to the Inner Sector and the Rimworlds, supply for luxury and refined goods like high-end medicine, top of the line city shielding units, news, and bionic prosthetics remain low, and thus drive their prices high._

 _And lastly, this spread out empire encourages planetary self-sustainability. Take for example the empire's fifth most populous planet, First Garden, which is located in the Core Worlds. Unlike its neighbors, the First Garden produces food, all refined goods and components, and even entertainment by itself without a need of input from other colonies. While First Garden does have imports, most of the jobs its people hold would not be affected unless a Great Depression on galactic scale hits the economy, and even then, it is quite likely that they may end up needing more people there because they will be able to export one thing people need regardless of economic status: food._

 _This is not true for Systems Alliance colonies. They are heavily dependent on each other to the point that colonies have specialized more than half of their population towards a specific field. The most famous example of this is New Eden. The colony makes a lot of food. So much food in that, if they don't sell their food within a week, food stored even a day older will have to be tossed out to make room for the freshly harvested crops. At the same time, New Eden has_ absolutely _negligible industrial output; there is exactly three small factories, one tiny mining operation, and three family-run textile businesses. That's it._

 _While this may seem extreme, Systems Alliance colonies take greater advantage of their local Extranet -called Internet. The interplanetary data transfer speed of the civilian populace outstrips their imperial counterpart by a factor of two at least. Unfortunately, this has done little to help Systems Alliance's entertainment diversity due to the fact that while there are small time "streamers," most of the entertainment sector is dominated by big mega-corporations. On the other hand, the imperial colonies have too much diversity. It's a common saying, "Go to Alliance for one, go to Empire for a thousand."_

 _While the Systems Alliance colonies keep close ties to each other, the same is not for the empire. In fact, the empire faces much more separatist movement exactly because they encourage self-sufficiency and colonial pride. To counter this, the empire has the Enforcer Program, which is basically induction of local forces into becoming the hunting dog of the law. They hunt down and kill without jury, judge, or trial anyone who has shown concrete evidence of violent separatist movement, though this is mostly limited to the leaders of such movements. They also spread propaganda about the benefits of the empire and how the few legally ceded nations like the Republic of Ohulsuiv struggles to this day, which is true. The Enforcers are not hated, however. They are subject to the very laws they enforce, and if they brutalize citizens beyond the necessary actions, then they too face criminal charges._


	8. Arc III: Prologue

Senior Advisor Jagun Mahuklu of the Batarian Hegemony drummed his finger on his human-import mahogany desk.

As a member of the illustrious Hegemonic Cabinet, he was privy to a lot of things. These subjects included, but not limited to, military research, Terminus mercenary network, detailed slave market data, names of spies, blackmail material, and so on.

Also, an exemption to trade bans for luxury goods such as his custom-designed mahogany desk worth more than a thousand slaves.

The smoothness and the coolness of the desk as well as the looks of envy from his rivals made this desk _worth every single credit_.

The general gist of a highly cultured nation's politics and those owed to its successful politicians.

His job made life even better.

As a senior advisor, he compiled reports for the rest of the cabinets to discuss.

And just earlier that day, Jagun had submitted three reports: one from the slave markets, one from the mercenary network, and the last from military research.

Technically, they were subsections of a single report named "Need for a Raid on the Escherian Empire."

The reasons as he stated in the report was thus: the Escherian Empire was the only non-Citadel Council entity that had human population, a species in high demand in the slave market, there was a new Mass Relay that they had discovered going from Terminus straight into their "Rimworld," and there was a chance that the Hegemony might be able to steal a tech or two during the raid.

Then just an hour ago, three hours since the end of the meeting of the cabinets, a video went viral in the Extranet. It was a human soldier, but he moved so fast and smoothly that his very existence was a blur.

Less than ten minutes after that video went viral, he received confirmation for approval from all other cabinet members.

Jagun smiled as he submitted a proposal to put together a mercenary force to attack the human colony.

One named Quentius, oddly turian sounding colony name.

The reason why he chose this colony was because his spies reported a significant lack of defenses. While it had a small fleet guarding the colony, the said fleet was also supposedly responsible for an entire sector. So if they strike hard and strike fast, it would be no issue.

It also sounded like a turian colony, so even if the Hegemony was not going to be actually attacking Hierarchy colony, it would feel good nonetheless when they would all feel better when they read on the report that a colony with turian-ish name got raided by their mercenaries.

Jagun chuckled to himself.

Yes, it would be grand.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"The new duke is a magician?"

"Yes. Our representative of the sector confirmed this."

"I did not expect that."

"What should we do?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's not part of the Association or the Academy."

"...You are right. How did he come about to learn magic?"

"Perhaps from a rogue or a stray tome?"

"A stray tome in one of the most pirate infested region of the galaxy before his own arrival? I doubt it. As for a rogue magician... none of our tripwires activated beyond the systems in the Inner Sector closest to the Core Worlds, where all of them were apprehended."

"Well, you know what they say about pirates. You find a lot of odd things in their hoard."

"That is true..."

"Well? What are we going to do about him? He's risking exposure of magic."

"...You know something? Why don't we just let him?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, hear me out. We magicians have been in hiding for so long that we simply accept it even after our mundane cousins went out to space and colonized planets. Isn't it time that we also have a revolution of our own?"

"You sound like a reactionary."

"Maybe it's time for a reaction."

"You intend to make half of the entire Academy and half of the Association your enemy?"

"I won't have to. We'll simply … let the duke expose magic for us."

"You intend to use one of the most powerful nobles? Are you insane?"

"From what I hear, he has no power outside of his own sector."

"And if any of our associate decides to try to kill him for exposing magic, it'll put a target on _all_ of us regardless of our part in it, and whether or not they succeed is a whole another can of worms."

"Then we protect him. Make him our own representative."

"I don't think it's a good idea. You know how insane this sounds, right? We can't predict what anyone is going to do once _this_ goes out."

"Well, I rather like the thought of that. An unpredictable future! Besides, it's not like there isn't a galactic substitute for it."

"... Sometimes, I think it was a mistake letting someone with 'Chaos' for their element become one of the Directors of the Associate."

"Well, I do have a plan in place, you know."

"Of course, you would. Tell me about it."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"General Sheperd."

The old human woman frowned. "Did my son do something?"

A blink. "Pardon me?" the man at her door asked, confused by the question.

"I know that John is a little hipster in the making, but I didn't think that he would garner the spook's attention."

"... No, ma'am. It has nothing to do with your son."

"Oh, then what is this visit about?" she asked. "You know what? Come in. Take a seat while I get us some tea."

The officer of the Systems Alliance Intelligence Service hesitantly and then reluctantly walked into the retired general's home. Once the said woman disappeared, the officer scrutized the retiree's home.

It was surprisingly normal place. He had been surprised to find out that the famous Taylor Sheperd, the Efficient Pacifist General of the Systems Alliance, lived in a normal house just nine blocks from his own home. Now that he was inside the said place, he saw that the place was just .. normal.

Other times he had visited other admirals', directors', or generals' home, he found artifacts, paintings, sculptures, and other expansive items displayed tastefully in a house worth at least a million dollars in value.

He saw none of those in Mrs. Sheperd's home; a few pairs of Nikes, a pair of sandals, his own pair, and a coat hangar at the entrance, a pot with …

…

…

Holy shit, there was plants everywhere in this house.

There was a Venus Fly Trap right at the entrance, a multiple species of orchids-

Was that a bird?

…

He was sweating.

It felt like a jungle in here!

He walked on, trying to see what was different. And then he saw-

His eyes bugged out as he drew in an impossibility.

There was a canopy of some kind of tropical tree in the middle of the house, covering the ceiling. And the base of the tree itself was closed off by rails. He looked over the rails and saw the tree trunk extend down and down and down... The tree itself, he now calculated, was at least thirty meters tall, and it was the center of an open basement that stretched just as deep and as wide as the house itself in diameter.

His heart calmed down as the logic of the world settled in.

'Of course, of course,' he thought. This was the house of a general. 'There was no way it was going to be normal.' And thus, all was right in the world.

"Come, sit."

He looked to the voice and saw Mrs. Sheperd with a tray. She set the tea down on a branch table(?) carved straight out of one of the extending branches of the tree at the center of the house. The seats themselves seemed normal... until he realized that the chairs too held an odd rainbow hue to them similar to the table.

"So...?" he asked, looking around.

"It's a Rainbow Eucalyptus tree," she explained. "I just fell in love with it when I first saw it as a kid, so I had one planted in my own house. Of course, it's a little expansive, but it's what I love so I'm glad to pay for it."

"I see..."

He sat down across from the lady of the house.

"So," she began. "What business does an intelligence officer of the SAIS have with retired lil' old me?" she asked with a smile. "And since it has nothing to do with my son, it obviously has to do with me, no?"

He responded with equally polite smile. "It does, ma'am. I've come to ask you a few questions regarding your recent correspondence with the new Duke of Freyr Sector."

There was a pause.

And then laughter.

"Oh goodness me, you visited me because of that?!" she cackled.

"The SAIS has been wondering if you were in possession of anything … worthwhile, so to speak."

There was another pause, but this time, the atmosphere was frigid.

"You mean something you can use to your advantage."

"Ma'am, I wouldn-"

"Shut up and get out. I was hoping for an interesting visit, but all I see is another spook poking his nose where it doesn't belong," she growled. "And you'll leave my house before I count to five in my head. I'll be shooting you full of holes otherwise." With that said, she pulled out a shotgun from underneath the branch-table.

She pumped and aimed.

Sufficed to say, the officer was quick to be gone without even giving a retort or smart backtalk to the retired lady.

But considering that Taylor Sheperd was one of the heroes of the Systems Alliance and the one whose word still holds sway in media and the brass, it was probably a good idea that he didn't earn more of her ire.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Taylor scoffed as she watched the supposedly unflinchable spooks of the SAIS run out of her house.

"Mom, did you scare someone again?"

She merely grinned as her eldest son walked up from below.

Jonathan Sheperd was the eldest of the 41st generation of Sheperds, and the only one among three generation not directly involved with the military. As a prodigy software programmer, Jonathan devoted his life to making games, mostly strategy games. His work was not that big of a hit, but still earned him a large steady income.

"Yeah. Another spook came by."

"Ah. Is this about your pen pal?" he asked as he took the tea that the said spook did not drink.

"Yup!"

For a woman of 88 years old, she looked only 50 and fit. Modern medicine and exercise helped her a lot. So the way she was wielding an antique trench gun with only one hand was no surprise to Jonathan. It also helped that he was often on the receiving end of the threat the fleeing spook got every time he didn't do his laundry on time.

Yes, the eldest of the siblings, still acting like a big baby in his mama's home. Well, he did it because he could, so sue him!

Or shoot him, because that's what his mom does.

Back to the matter at hand, Jonathan too was curious about his mother's pen pal. Supposedly, it was the new Escherian duke ruling some backwater Rimworld sector.

Hell, when he heard that internet could reach there, Jonathan was shocked!

"Did my encryption work well?"

"It worked really well," she grinned. "The spook probably got too frustrated and decided to just ask up front. Dumbass didn't even bring a gun with him."

Jonathan laughed quietly.

Contrary to what a lot of people think about his mom, Taylor Sheperd was a crude woman. She wasn't the refined admiral or general everyone thinks of, but was the near-perfect image of a drill sergeant not at work.

This mostly had to do with her education, or so she always told Jonathan and his siblings. She was a street-girl who had been conscripted during a minor seccesionist movement in the Inner Sector. Instead of acting like a regular, disgruntled conscript, she apparently went out of her way to make achievements instead. In the span of a single year, she went from being a Private to a Sergeant, then another five years to become a captain after one of the colonels at the time recommended her to the officer training.

Exactly twenty-three years after becoming a captain, she became a general of the Systems Alliance Army.

Throughout his life, Jonathan saw two people. Ones who hated his mother for being born a street rat and outdoing all "elites," and the ones who admired her for overcoming what everyone considered to be impossibility.

Because seriously, a street rat?

Jonathan shook his head.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well, what?"

"I know that the spooks only come and go every time they see an exchange of letters between you two. What did he say this time?"

"Ah! Something about building a carrier."

"... Odd choice of topic between pen pals."

His mother scoffed. "We're both militarymen. We enjoy talking about this, especially considering that he invited me over."

There was a pause.

"Wait, what-?"

"That's right, hon!" Taylor suddenly shouted. "We're going on a vacation!"

There was a thump and a creak, and then a series of rapid climb up the basement/tree garden stairs. From the same stairs that Jonathan popped out of, his father popped out.

Whereas his mother was fit, slim, and powerful, his father was rotund, fluffy, and lovable. An retired lieutenant of the Systems Alliance Navy, Edward Sheperd was a great cook with even greater walrus moustache. In fact, if you gave him a bandana, a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, and a black leather jacket, he would make the perfect image of the old biker gang member.

Unfortunately for the man's fear factor, Edward chose instead to wear pink aprons, stove mittens, and a chef's hat.

Still, a great cook. Once he got two rivals to make amends lest they never taste his secret sauce smeared boiled shrimp.

And just like his wife, a travel lover.

Thus it was decided that the two of them would visit her new friend at the edge of the known human territory.

The Rimworlds.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\


	9. Arc III: Plethora of Stuff

_**I saw in the review that some of you were concerned about humans becoming too strong and whatnot because of magic. This will not be the case nor will David be a one-man army.**_

 _ **If you want a comparison to what could happen with magic in a military situation, then please refer to Warhammer 40,000's psykers and their roles.**_

 _ **Don't matter if you're a psyker/magician when the enemy puts a bullet through your skull from behind. Or burn you with nuclear warhead. Or just swarm you.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _ **For those of you wondering what fandoms are involved in the making of this story, the list is below.**_

 _ **If the list seems too long for you, just focus the first four. The rest aren't going to affect the story too much.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _ **Mass Effect (primary)**_ _-background, setting, history, races, etc._

 _ **Rimworld (major)**_ _-setting, history, race(mechanoid), psionics and shit._

 _ **Cthulhu Mythos (minor)**_ _ **–**_ _Even if you aren't a member of a religion, most scientists and matheticians involed in calculating the chances of creationism vs coincidence agree that a universe with one or multiple gods is more likely than a no god scenario (With reality-being-simulation as the top contender), so why not add the most depressing and indifferent reality here?  
Besides, Rimworld and Mass Effect derives parts of its design from Cthulhu Mythos anyway._

 _ **Harry Potter (minor)**_ _\- Remember the Association and the Academy from the Arc II prologue? Yeah, well, they're the future-version of my interpretation on what happens to a secret magical society that decided to see how long they can stay hidden before one of their own decides to expose the entire ordeal in a manner too big for them to handle. AKA magical FUBAR. So no, it is not a direct crossover but a twisted version of HPverse being inserted. They will be less powerful compared to HPverse wizards and witches._

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

"Have mercy upon me, O God," the pastor began. "According to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest."

There was a pause before the pastor looked over the congregation. "Let us thank the Lord for another peaceful day, and let us thank the Lord for the good neighbors we have."

I blanked out at this point.

It was a minor habit -a bad habit, mind you- that I had developed in my childhood. When I was but a kid, I hated the church. I hated the pastor's incessant prayers. And I hated it so much that I simply … blocked out everything related to prayer. Mind you, if I was the one praying, then I would pray like any other, but when a _pastor_ prays, then I blank out for the duration.

It was kind of like a trigger embedded in me by the most boring and droning voice of my childhood's local pastor. He was a good preacher, but his prayers were too dull and mind numbing.

By the time I came out of my black out, the pastor was looking over the church's congregation.

It was a small church. In this era of science and warfare, people did not attribute their lives nor thank a higher being. However, I was not from this era. I was a man from the times of the first two World Wars. I lived a life of a devout Christian, though my actions may speak otherwise, and I would like to continue doing so.

But really, a lot of my people found it shocking to see me in the church. It must be my face. Katerina always told me that I gave off this roguish handsomeness that one would expect from a mafia boss or a celebrity, not a religious man.

"There was a question that one of our members brought up in our last sermon," the pastor began. "'Why does God ask us to ask him for forgiveness when he is all powerful?'"

There was a pause. A deliberate one to allow his words to sink into his congregation.

"I believe our member asked this with Matthew 7:8 in mind, where it is stated thus: 'For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.' He may have asked this because as he had learned about God, he is all mighty, all powerful, and all knowing.

"He does this because he loves us. Now tell me, what kind of parents do you consider to be good? A father who forces his children to pick up a knife and learn how to fight and kill because it is a good skill to have, or a mother who patiently listens to the concerns and worries of her children when they come to her? Most of you would pick the mother as do I. If you picked the former, please see me after this sermon for a tongue lashing."

There was a sporadic burst of chuckles and giggles in the congregation.

The pastor smiled. "We all know that the latter is the better parent of the two. Even though it is in our power to solve the problems of our children, we do not force ourselves from the start to finish, even for their sake. Perhaps when they're only children, we may, but not when they are adults. Why not? Some of you may ask.

"My answer, or at least my interpretation, is thus: how would we grow as a soul, as a being, if God held our hand from the start to finish? If God solved all of our problems, then would we really be men and women we are today? It is in our nature to indulge in what takes the least amount of energy; it is a simple law of nature, in fact. Look up thermodynamics.

"Perhaps you can infer to this image when you ask God for everything. Imagine a child asking its parents to give her a piggyback ride. Of course, it is expected of a child to ask for such things. Now imagine the child as a twenty-year old, eighty kilo man. If that man asked for a piggyback ride from his parents, what would you say?"

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

I blinked and I was outside the church.

I looked around in confusion before groaning.

The pastor must have droned on.

Seriously, a soldier can drone on in front of me about regulation and I would not blank out -even if I pray so- but if a pastor does it, I blank out.

This was seriously an issue.

"My lord."

The pastor came up to me and bowed.

"No need to bow, Pastor Peter."

The man straightened his back and smiled. "I would just like to thank you for your tithe, and how much you donated for the orphanage."

...Wut?

"It warms my heart to know that a man like you can serve as an example to the people. Your donation will ensure that the orphanage will continue to operate for five decades. Thank you, sir." With that he walked away after bowing once more.

I stood there dumbfounded, though I didn't let it show.

Was there a playback option for my memory? I am half machine, after all... Oh, there is. Okay, what did I do... Oh, oh.

Oh.

Shit. I donated a thousand imperial credit on top of the five hundred credit tithe?

Holy shit, I just made this dingy church rich.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

I sat before a pair of arguing childr- I mean adults. They were certainly not calling each other names, and they certainly were not pointing fingers like children. Oh no no no...

…

Who the hell am I kidding? Of course, they were acting like children!

Unfortunately, this was part of my job. Due to the fact that judges, even traveling judges, were rare in the Rimworlds, I had to either assign someone to serve as a judicator or serve as a judicator myself should I not have anyone to assign it to. Obviously, I needed someone who had a firm grasp on all manners of laws.

Ad obviously, that was Samantha... right?

Again, unfortunately, no. Her expertise was on military laws and related civilian laws.

Not land laws.

Or who stole whose cow.

So I sat there with a holopad in my grasp which had browsers with the laws of the empire while the two children before me bickered.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Magic.

It was not reality. It was a fantasy. It was a dream. It was impossible.

Yet, I now held it in my hands.

My mesmerized eyes watched a literal ball of fire hover between my two palms, which cupped the fire ball like one would for water from a stream. It was warm to my touch and burned nothing, but the thermal sensors inside me told me that the thing held between my hands was indeed a ball of raw plasma called fire.

It was impossible.

I loved it.

I laughed as I tossed the fire ball into the air and caught it as it came back down, almost like a real ball. Its fall was slower but it fell and I caught it. I rolled it between my fingers, hovering just a bit above the fingers and yet acting as if I was touching it.

It was marvelous.

Magic.

It was _real_.

I laughed harder -

And lost my concentration.

The fireball, initially harmless to me -its creator-, turned fierce. I lost control. It began to burn my hands. I screamed from the pain that I did not expect and tossed the fire ball away. It struck the ceiling and triggered the fire alarm.

Soon, my entire office was coated in firefoam.

Including me.

Samantha, the aide given to me by the emperor, rushed into my office, and stared at me.

"Well, it's going to take a while to clean this, sir," Samantha commented as she gave my office a look. "I'll alert the janitors."

"Thank you, dearie," I waved before slouching into my hoverchair. The thing bounced a little to compensate for my sudden movement, but it was soon stable. I let out a sigh. "Okay, David, you need to be a little less excited about this," I muttered to myself. I paused for a second, and then stood up. The janitors were going to be here soon, which meant that I should be out of my office as to not interrupt their work and vice versa.

But as soon as I was out of my office, Samanth was on me with women's trademark motherly frown. You know, the one that made you feel stupid at the least, and shameful at the worst. There was no "at best" when it came to those frowns.

"Yes?" I asked tentatively.

"Sir, you're walking around and shedding the firefoam like snake scales. It makes more work for the janitors," she remarked.

I opened my mouth with an inaudible 'aha' coming out. "Right. I'll go back and shake some of them off."

I did so.

Now, the janitors were the subject to a love and hate mixture of feelings from everyone aboard the Onuxal Station. Before they came along, there was literal dung piles and shit stains on the walls. Sometimes on the ceiling as well. The whole place smelled of piss and smoke. Once they came along, everything just smelled better. They were loved for this.

But they were also that: janitors. People who cleaned the mess other people have made. Professing to love the janitors when there was no distinct lovely smell nearby was awkward, even if understandable. The janitors knew that they also held power in the station, and though there were only fifty-five janitors, forty humans and fifteen Ais, they had their own little union, and wielded their power.

Oh, someone spat near one of theirs? No cleaning their sector.

Oh, someone threw trash on the floor after the janitors just went through the area? No cleaning that person's sector.

For the first month since the formation of the Janitor's Union, the station alternated every other day between smelly and refreshing. I had to put an executive order to bring complains of _individuals_ up to me without a show of force to have them stop it.

I may be half machine, but the other half still _smelled_.

Samantha was in the same boat as me, but considering that her own brother was one of the janitors here, she sided with them, and thus her sensibilities towards the amount of work janitors had to do beyond what they needed to.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

I was in my quarters while the janitors cleaned my office. I was not going to mess with the fire ball again because losing my control here would mean I would not have anywhere to sleep once the firefoam goes off.

'So what should I do...' I asked myself.

There were a number of things I could do. There were the electronic paperwork I had to sign, which had been what I intended to do until I had to leave my own office due to my own follies of playing with fire. I could inspect the station from top to bottom as trusting others to do it for you can only go so far. I can join the patrol fleets, though I do not have a flagship of my own to do it with, which would mean that I would have to crash in with one of the cruisers -because they were safer than the others-, but that would be rude.

… I don't have a flagship.

I grinned as a new goal had been provided before me. "My own flagship, huh?" I asked myself as I made my way towards the shipyards.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

"Y-ye wanna comm a bee bee, meh-lard?"

Translation: You want to commission a battleship, my lord?

Everyone, meet Junker.

Junker was a TC, or Transferred Consciousness, of a genius colonial(America, not the space colonies) redneck. Genius with his mind and hands and definitely not his mouth. Despite the fact that his android body was capable of normal speech, Junker refused to change his homeland accent, because (as he told me) it would be him abandoning his roots. He may talk like a true redneck, but the two hundred thirty-five year old TC knew everything there had to be about engineering.

As a result, the 3.4 meter tall and thin TC faceless android colored in blood red and dirty white had a way of both confusing and scaring people; his accent was close to media-portrayal of imperial gang boss, unfortunately, which doesn't help him.

However, Junker was a good man. He was an honest man, a kind man, and above all, a diligent man.

Even now, when his liege was asking something from him, his hands were constantly working.

I didn't mind that. In fact, I'd rather have more people like Junker than bootlickers (whose population was thankfully low).

"Yes," I replied simply.

"Aight. Well, whaddya 'eed on eet? Why not just 'uy one from dem Cores?" he asked as he lowered an armor piece into place on the fixed frigate hull.

"As much as it would be great to buy one, none of the Core World ship manufacturer have the specifications I require," I explained. "It'll need to have a small shipyard to allow small-time repairs to be made for crusier and any class lower up to a maximum of four systems total as well as the capability to house a hundred fighters at minimum."

There was a pause as Junker stopped working and turned to fully face me in the hangar. This caused other workers to stop as well because Junker never stopped working while on the job.

"Oi, oi, oi, dukie. Yer not be asking for a bee bee, yer asking for a titan."

"A carrier would suffice," I replied.

"... Ye got dem empire's perm?"

Translation: Did you get the imperial administration's license to hold a carrier in your possession?

"I'll be petitioning one soon, but as of right now, no."

Junker scratched his head's faceless chin. "We'd be deep in shit if yall get caught without it."

"Which is why," I grinned. "I don't mind if you start the building the ship as a battleship, though if you can slow the construction process until I get the license, it would be much appreciated."

Junker barked out a laugh. "Oh, oi, oh, ye sneaky beaky blue blood."

The others around the hangar gasped, and some even looked angry at Junker's harsh tongue. I didn't mind. Dealing with odd people was something that's been ingrained into me after a lifetime of service in the Royal Army.

You'd be surprised how many irregulars the army accepts.

"Well, can you get it done?" I asked with my hands on my waist. "I won't put a set date, but I'd like to have it ready to be launched within five years."

Junker whistled. "Ye really will wait dat long? Damn dukie, I 'idn't know there was a patient blue blood!" he laughed. He took him a moment to settle down. His posture changed. Before, he was slouched back and his long neck craned out. Now, his back and neck was straight, and there was confidence about him. "Aye. I can get it done. Ye be sending the mets?"

Translation: Are you sending the materials?

"Of course," I smiled. "Along with a crate of beer for all of you to enjoy off the job."

That earned me cheers in the background.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Getting my hands on the license was no big deal. As a duke, it was within my imperial rights. What took time, though, was the legal procedures that took because I wanted to _design_ a carrier and have it be made in my own territory.

While carrier license was freely given to dukes and grand dukes, someone designing their own carrier and making it? That was like inviting a weapons company and giving them free reign to make whatever they want. This was because carrier license also came with the ability to buy and sell carriers (due to a law passed five decades ago when the current emperor's grandfather caved into the demands of his vassals to be able to exchange _carriers_ as if they were toys).

So someone who has both the license and the shipyard capacity to make carriers took a longer time to be approved.

I'm sure that I won't be rejected, though. It wasn't like I wanted a dreadnought or a titan.

Those two were forbidden by law to be owned by any one group or individual that was not the military. So Junker asking me if I wanted a titan was a question regarding my willingness to break the law rather than my sector's capacity to make one.

I suppose he could have been slightly surprised by my perceived willingness to break a law of that magnitude, though he saw what I was reaching for towards the end of our conversation.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

"I'm bored~" I moaned like a child, despite the fact that my face had wrinkles to outwrinkle court elders of the empire. I died old, so my face didn't change and I definitely didn't mind. At least, I wouldn't be mistaken for a non-comm or a low ranking officer when I'm in my "casual" uniform.

Even the wonders of magic died off quickly when I didn't have any other venues of research into it after a full month. The book that I had couldn't be translated in detail; most of the terms were long lost to time, so it was a miracle in and itself that I managed to learn how to use magic from it.

And speaking of magic, it was a wonder, did I mention that?

The leather book was titled: "Gosta's Observation on Magic of Diviners and Shamans." The prologue of the book told me about a man named Gosta (obviously the author) who grew up in the city of Ribe, which I know now to be _the_ oldest city of all of Scandinavia. Gosta was the son of a viking who had converted to Catholicism. As the son of a rich and powerful man in the region, Gosta was sent to the local catholic priests to learn how to read and write in Latin.

After learning Latin, Gosta went and became an adventurer because it was his dream (the book was really sparse on details). His journey took him to central Sjaelland, where the Danish there were still worshiping the Nordic pantheon. Gosta converted to his ancestor's beliefs after watching the local diviner call upon Thors name to strike lightning at a rival village during a sunny and cloudless day.

Gosta took it upon himself to learn more of this magic and to record it.

…

It was about thirty pages after that everything was in odd terms or encrypted to the point where translation was impossible (unless you considered gibberish to be good translation). But the thirty pages that I managed to learn from had plethora of information. Like how to call upon magic from within yourself -Gosta firmly declared in his book that magic must come from the soul- and how to wield the elements with it.

With those instructions, I was able to learn a few things about myself.

First off, I was a wizard. I had a good laugh about that once I realized it. I was a bloody wizard! Like Merlin, just less awesome.

Two, fire came easily to me and water simply hated me. I supposed my element was fire or something close to it.

So with that, I tried to experiment once there was no more information I could draw from the book.

Aside from fireballs circling vertically behind me that fires from their position at will -I call it the Fiery Buddha Wheel- and Timed Explosion Fireball -it's a fireball that would explode twice, first when it hits the target and second after a predetermined amount of time I set with the amount of "mana" I inject into the fireball.

It was exciting! I was a wizard! I was making progress!

…

And it just stopped.

I tried to experiment further, but I hurt myself trying to make plasma, so my progress crawled from that point on to ensure my safety.

I was not going back to the hospital if I could help it!

And by crawling progress, I meant no progress. Those two techniques were basically all I could do beyond simply chucking fireballs. I couldn't understand why my number of techniques were limited. It's not like I didn't remember how to wield and mold fire. I tried this and that -including praying to God after burning through all options- but nothing changed.

I sighed.

I wanted to do more magic, but I supposed even magic had limits.

Speaking of limits, I knew that my current limit was set by the lack of knowledge about magic. I had thirty pages that gave me a gist of how to do magic, but that was it for me. I needed more.

I supposed I could visit Earth or Mars and look for some kind of black market regarding this. It wasn't like there was going to be a internet site for ma-.

...

No, why wouldn't there be?

I raced back to my office.

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Unfortunately, the idea was too optimistic, I realized after a four hour search through the internet (both the surface and the deep web). There were scammers that I found and reported, but other than that, I found no real magician running a internet magic book store.

I scoffed.

Truly, my old age had caught up to me.

A magical bookstore on the internet. How absurd.

"Sir?"

I looked up, and saw Samantha. "Yes?"

"Are you sleeping? Would you like a blanket? The room is quite cold to be sleeping in."

I shrugged. "No, I wasn't sleeping. What made you think that?"

"You were sitting in your chair for the last 30 minutes."

I blinked. "I have?"

"Yes, sir."

"Huh, alright. I guess I'll head over to my room then."

"Sir, it's only noon local time."

"Yeah, well, I'm the duke. I can sleep whenever I want."

"Alright, sir. Just know that you have a meeting with the representatives of the Cixon Industries three hours from now."

"... I do?"

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Turns out, I set up a meeting with one of the most powerful and wealthy mega-corporation of the Escherian Empire and completely forgot about it.

The Cixon Industries was a hereditary conglomerate with interests in numerous things. Some of these were the normal industrial interest of a corporation like chemical plants, refineries, and spaceship construction while others were colonization and private security group management. In fact, the Cixon Industries held the thirteenth largest battleship fleet, numbering at fifty-nine battleships and their escorts.

What I wanted with them was to hire one of their security corps, if not outright buy it out, and to forge a contract to establish a mining colony on one of the inhabitable worlds in the Quentius System. Because the planet I had in mind had significant ilmenite ore deposit (ilmenite was titanium-iron ore), which I knew they were interested in.

Titanium was still important in this era as it was in my time. It was still used in paint for the white coloring, and was used in the construction of spaceship hulls. I would know; my own shipyards were consuming absurd quantities of any kind of titanium ore they could find.

I stood before the meeting room, and adjusted the necktie I had on me. While I would have preferred my old uniform to this suit and necktie, I concluded that it would have been an inappropriate attire considering that the military and the Cixon Industries hated each other.

This was due to the mercenaries under Cixon Industries' control. More often than not, they would be hired by nobles and pirates alike to handle problems they themselves could not. Sometimes, this meant population control. Other times, it meant lending assistance where illegal activities were underway. The military were often called in to halt both of these activities as well, so the Cixon and the military clashed. What made it worse was the fact that several high ranking nobles and rich commoners kept Cixon from being prosecuted beyond a slap on the wrist and a meager fine.

I didn't care about Cixon's activities, though, as long as they didn't do so in my sector.

I opened the door, and saw the representative with his two guards. All Cixon representatives, from the lowly clerks to the industrial "ambassadors" wore the logo of the Cixon Industries, a brown mechanical tiger, on their upper left chest.

What drew more of my attention was the two guards the representative brought with him.

They were armored in the latest Cixon Warframes, Cixon Guardwear "Blood Panther." Its dark red and black painted armored was painted in such a way to remind everyone who looked at them of death, pain, and blood. It was readily used by the Cixon Industries when they felt a "need" to see their deal through profitably.

'Psychological warfare at its best,' I thought to myself.

"So Blood Panthers for guards, huh?" I asked as I smiled. "Must really want this deal to go your way."

The man smiled politely. "Why, of course, sir. We are a for profit business."

We both sat on a pair of fine leather sofas facing each other., and faced each other across a low tea table.

"The Board of Governors of have reviewed proposition you have made, my lord," the diplomat began, getting right to the point. It was fine with me; I didn't want to know his name anyway, not when he brought Blood Panthers.

Blood Panthers were armor that was looked down upon in diplomacy because it introduced something no diplomat liked: near-death feeling. It was generally considered an insult, even if it was effective, to bring it out during a negotiation.

Well, sucks for the Cixon Industries, I'm a bloody bionic! I easily control my own emotions, including my reptilian brain!

"Out of the seven, four of the governors have shown disapproval for your restriction on what we could and couldn't do on the colony that we were to found. They sent me to … alter the proposal."

"Show me where they didn't agree with me."

He did.

I frowned. "These are simply the agreement to follow the laws concerning rights of workers, AIs, and TCs. What's wrong with it?"

"The governors were hoping that you would agree to … ignore the status of our workers."

Something inside me snapped but I kept calm.

I leaned back. "And why would I do that?" I asked. "There's no incentive for me beyond the short-term."

"I'm sure we can solve something."

Then he slid something forward. I took it, opened it, and saw a check with more than a million imperial credits listed on it. I wanted to scoff, but I didn't. I closed the envelope -old-fashioned one at that- and slid it back. "No thank you."

He looked shocked.

"B-But that's a million-"

"I saw."

"Then why-?"

"A million credit is not worth my morals nor the well being of my people. Please leave. I'll find someone else to support us."

"... If that is your wish, my lord." He took the envelope, stood up, and bowed before leaving. The two Blood Panther guards left with him, not even sparing me a glance.

That was fine.

I grinned after the door to the meeting room closed.

This was fine.

"Did you get the full video?"

"Of course, sir. Even got the part where he directly handed you a full envelope filled with credit chits," Samantha replied, no doubt grinning. "It'll be sent to both the Royal Intelligence and the Escherian Intel Corps."

"Good, good."

"Both of the intelligence services thanks you for your service, sir."

"It's for the good of the people," I replied easily.

"For the empire."

I saluted to no one in particular. The mood just got to me, so I did.

"For the empire."

 **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Later that week, I got news through Samantha that the Cixon Industries governors were arrested, though two were released immediately right after. This led to investigations within the corporation, and more than a thousand people were arrested in the upcoming month. Their stocks crashed and burned. Its assets confiscated. Soon, it was dissolved.

My part in the Cixon Industries' fall was not mentioned, just as I wanted it. I got what I wanted after all – nothing more was necessary.

Yes, in exchange for my cooperation, I was promised a hundredth of the total assets that the Cixon Industries held before the investigation.

The mercenaries and their ships that I mentioned before? They were now mine, though they were now renamed as Freyr Security.

All thirteen thousand marines and a fleet to match the one I had built from the ground up.

Life was good.

Being a duke was better.


	10. Arc III: The Bazaar

Beta'd by Benigitsune

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A month after my involvement in the downfall of Cixon Industries (which was now split up into ten or so smaller companies with single common major shareholder among them), I received a letter.

That's right. I received a letter, not an e-mail. It was a proper envelope and proper paper. I was intrigued. Who would send me such a letter and why?

Since my days on Earth, paper became a luxury good. Trees that people used paper for didn't grow on every single colony, though there were many that they did grow on, and the advent of commercial space travel made paper obsolete. Now, possessing a library of actual books was a sign of wealth and power because to have space to maintain your own paper library was enormous in space.

Back to the point, I got a letter, and I wondered who it was from.

There was no return address, so I assumed that the person who sent it was trying to be mysterious or something.

With a quick swipe of my finger across and a quick pull, I had the letter in front of me. I opened it.

… It wasn't a letter. It was an invitation paper.

"To Duke David of the Freyr Sector,

You are invited to the Bazaar that will be open on September 11th, 2690 AD, 8 p.m. standard imperial time. When you are ready to join us, stand in front of a closed door while holding this invitation, speak 'One invitation from the Bazaar,' and open the door.

Please refrain from discussing the Bazaar with those who didn't get the invitation.

Sincerely hoping to see you there,  
The Keeper of the Bazaar."

… Awfully weird letter.

What had me curious, though, was the fact that I could sense lingering mana on this letter.

Yes, this was a letter of invitation from magical community.

The question was thus: why was I invited, who was part of this magical community, and how should I respond to this?

Who and the why couldn't be answered easily. I had no knowledge whatsoever regarding magical communities. As for why … I suppose it was possible that my own progress with my magic prompted the delivery of this letter. Kind of like "welcome to our secret club" kind of thing.

Of course, this could all just be a trap. Myths and legends about magicians and wizards were usually about how secretive and devious they are; how much they want to steal others' magic; what kind of diseases they set upon the people; or when the wizards go mad, how truly frightening it can be for others around them.

So it could be a trap, but why trap me? Maybe mind control me to gain access to my resources?

… No, that's unlikely. I may be a duke, but I am a duke of a Rimworld sector, one of the poorest systems possible. While the Quentius Systems has been getting better economically, the entire sector's riches were still piss poor on average.

Then what? Could it really be a welcome invitation for a newcomer? I hoped so.

'It's two months away,' I thought to myself. 'I have time to think.' With that, I turned back to my paperwork at hand. 'Captain Frisky wants a bathtub installed on his bridge...? Denied.'

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Crusier Captain Frisky was having a good day.

Instead of being stuck in a patrol fleet, he had been moved -as per request- to a scout fleet, and after the last scout fleet commander's devastating incompetence, he had also been promoted to the rank of sector commander of the 2nd Freyr Scout Fleet.

His fleet was composed of 1 industrial freighter, 3 cruisers, 15 frigates, and 20 corvettes. It was the perfect size to scout out the sector. The corvettes could, once the fleet entered a system, easily spread out over the system and scan everything down while the cruisers and frigates held ground. Once the corvettes' jobs were done, everyone would refuel from the industrial freighter and move onto the next system.

Ping, ping, ping.

Frisky "opened" his virtual avatar's eyes and looked at the source of the alert. It was a report from the FSN Civic Duty.

"Reported pirate base has been spotted."

Frisky grinned.

This was the last enemy base. The last pirate base in the entire sector.

"Block off all escape routes, shut down the stargates if you have to," he ordered the fleet. "Boys, we're calling in the cavalry."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When Solomon got the call, he immediately turned his entire 1st Freyr Patrol Fleet from their patrol route towards the system where Captain Frisky reported from.

He and his fleet, 3 battleships, 15 cruisers, 93 frigates, and 100 corvettes, zoomed towards their destination with murder in mind.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Aw shit," one of the pirates aboard the pirate base whined when he saw a fleet heading towards the base. "This can't b-"

To his own shock, the local patrol fleet didn't even give the customary warning. They just fired.

Energy lances, kinetic lances, and one single Hyperdrive Antimatter Missile all came charging in.

There was one big bad boom, destruction of a large asteroid...

And it was over.

All pirate bases and pirate fleets within the Freyr Sector had been wiped out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

I smiled when I heard the news.

"Get everyone a week long paid vacation on rotation, commander," I told Solomon through our face-to-face comm chat. "You've all earned it."

Solomon, ever the stoic man that he was, nodded stoicly and the comm cut off.

I leaned back.

"Finally, I can get started on my new projects," I said to myself.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The project I had in mind was the ocean planet, Y-7123-5. It was a world with thousands of islands, and although gravity there was stronger than standard (at around 1.9G, it was pretty strong for normal people), it was a planet perfect for training soldiers.

I was explaining this concept to some of my trusted men and women.

"With its high gravity, soldiers would have to condition themselves to train simply to survive. Couple that with reflex and dodging training, any soldier who even just survived the training course would be considered elite.

"Imagine this: a regular soldier with their entire equipment weighs in around at 100 kilograms to 120 kilograms (or 220 pounds to 265 pounds). On a world that exuded 1.9 G, a soldier would feel double their weight. Unless they train to adjust, they can't even walk.

"Now, let's assume our soldier, let's call him John, survives the most basic of trainings on the world where he can walk, run, sprint, swim, and even dodge a couple of shots from a gun. Pull him out of the planet, let him adjust to normal gravity, and what do you get?"

The men and women before me paled at the implications.

I grinned.

"They might not be strong as me or any of the royal bodyguards who have the same bionics as I do, but they will be unstoppable to a regular soldier."

"My lord, how did you come up with ideas like this?" someone asked. I squinted my eyes a little to see who that was, and saw that it was Commander Solomons. The man was so diligent that even on his vacation, he stayed on Onuxal in case he was needed. A really good man!

"Well, when I was younger I used to write science-fiction novels and whatnot. With the time available to me, some research on the internet, and very intense conversations with some of the doctors, I figured that this project was possible. Now, keep this in your mind: I was not the first to suggest this, just the only one crazy enough to suggest that we actually do this instead of passing it off as a thinktank."

"Someone else suggested this before?"

I scoffed. "Plenty have. The military geeks, for one, loved this idea on the internet so much that they have a little club that petitions the high brass at Mars to make such a colony happen. Of course, the expenses are too much, and the past emperors have always said no, so they couldn't.

"The military does, however, possess artificial gravity generating room where soldiers can fight in simulation. Now, they are limited in space and the facility itself is also limited to the Core Worlds."

"Then why don't we just build one of those instead of setting up an entire facility?"

"Simple," I grinned. "Because I want it to happen."

There was a groan.

I cackled in return.

It was how I ran things. I did calculations on my own, did the designing myself, and then introduced the concept to my advisers and secretaries. And by secretaries, I really mean people assigned to jobs like "Sector Secretary of Defense," "Sector Secretary of Internal Affairs," "Sector Secretary of Commerce," and "Sector Secretary of Justice." Basically, the duchy/provincial level ministers for me.

After I tell them what I want, we gather together, fix my design a little bit, and give it a go.

Considering that we had a carrier being worked on, several new cities on the Quentius planet, construction of new parts of the Onuxal Station, import of "indentured laborers" (read: politically correct term for legal slaves made from debtors, pirates, prisoners, and criminals) from several different Inner Sector nobles (serfs that were going to be freed once they arrive), and a whole lot more other stuff that I thought of before my advisers(who should've been implementing such measures anyway), I knew that they were going to follow through without too much of a grumble.

Commander Solomons, my Sector Secretary of Military Affairs, seemed like he was trying to calculate whether or not he was going to have to go through this new project as a guinea pig.

"How much do you think it'll cost, Edward?" I asked my Sector Secretary of Commerce.

Edward Nusecres was a Core World accountant who I hired as my own accountant after having been referred to by my connections. Edward was a short man who had been under the service of a local noble on Mars. But not getting paid enough had led the man to start embezzling his liege... which didn't quite turn out right for him. He got caught within the year. When I got hold of him, he had spent the last five years in prison. So I offered him this: "give me honest, diligent, and efficient work for the next ten years, and I'll give you a barony on Quentius."

Essentially, I was offering a position of nobility.

He took it immediately, and for the past few months or so, he has been living up to his part of the bargain.

He was also the one sweating the most as well as being the palest of the sector secretaries.

"Ah... Ah..." He looked down at his datapad and began to furiously type in numbers. "... thirty-seven thousand credits at the least for the construction of the facilities there alone, regular suppl-"

"Don't worry about the supplies," I grinned. "All soldiers going there will have to hunt for their own food."

Solomon looked like he really needed to take a shit.

"I see..." A pause. He typed in more numbers. "Disregarding supply runs and only taking into account facility, equipment, and maintenance, it'll cost at least fifty thousand credits to start up, seventy-five thousand by the end of the construction, and two or three thousand credits biannually to maintain."

"Where are you getting those numbers from?"

"Construction material fees, manpower fees, data of average equipment breakdown during construction taken from construction works done on above average gravity worlds, colony world type, and everything adjusted for what will soon be the only place where humans have gone to for extended period of time with more than 1.5G."

As I said, Edward has been living up to his part of the bargain very well. 'I think he deserves a very good barony,' I thought to myself.

I blinked. "Wait, are you telling me that there aren't colonies out there with more than 1.5 G?" I asked.

"Sir, respectfully speaking, your plan is batshit insane."

I chuckled. "Go on. Tell me why."

"Soldiers aren't super-humans. You can't expect to just drop them off on the planet and survive without issues. If that's actually how you intend to run this planet, then I suspect a 90% death rate for newcomers."

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. Solomon will make sure those who do get sent can at least bench their own weight with standard being able to hold up … I think 1.5 times their own weight for a long time."

"I am?"

"Who did you expect was going to oversee the entire operation once it comes online?"

"...You, sir?"

"Solomon, don't jest during meetings."

"Go on, Edward. What else if that particular issue is covered?"

Edward scratched his head a bit before he spoke. "You said that the soldiers will be hunting for their own food, but do we even have a comprehensive report on the planet itself?"

"We do. Just enough to know that as long as the soldiers test for anything poisonous with their poison kit, they'll be fine."

"... Okay, then I'll have to adjust the monthly maintenance to compensate for higher survival chance."

"Edward, please don't think so harshly of me."

"Can't help it, sir."

"You are forgiven."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

To my surprise, the usually impeccable (meaning she was usually on time) Mrs. Sheperd just messaged me that she couldn't come for her vacation. Apparently, her youngest daughter just went into labor.

I shrugged. My offer for her family's vacation was a standing offer; she could take it anytime.

Now, on the other hand, I had a issue to deal with.

Namely, the invitation to the Bazaar.

I now had seven hours before the time, so I was stressed out trying to make the decision. I had, of course, tried to think about it for the few days. So far, I've come to four points of pro's and con's.

The pro was this: I would get connected to actual magicians and may be able to hire their help to improve my sector. The con was this: I could be enslaved and everything I built up would be used to spread chaos (if the wizard/magician who invited me followed the "evil" magician archetype in the myths and legends).

So I thought about how magic might control to prevent those nasty outcomes.

Thus, I proposed to myself scenarios about how they might kill or enslave me.

If they had a whole ambush ready, I would die, simple as that. It could simply be me being spaced. To that end, I installed a black box, built-in rocket thrusters into my legs and forearms (very small with limited fuel), and distress signal amplifier as well as a cyrostasis-inducer (basically, a device that caused my entire body to be encased in ice at speeds near instantaneously and also thaw me near instantaneously, thus preventing damages to my remaining organic parts).

If they were going to enslave me, I needed a way to either break free or prevent that I was enslaved so as to see why they did what they did. In this case... I was stomped. For one, I didn't know how magic interacted with the mind, the brain, and the "soul." I didn't know what magic existed that could control me and how those "spells" went about doing exactly that.

My own magic was not helpful in this regard because outside of the two fire elemental spells that I made up, I could learn no more (or it was really hard, kind of like being on a threshold and not being able to cross it).

To that end, I did three things with myself. First was an upgrade to my brain implants. I ordered very advanced ones from the Core Worlds and had my best doctor implant them. They were Doctrine Implant, IPI-6 (faster processing implant, made by one of the subsidiaries of the former Cixon Industries), and TCT-009

The first implant was known for its usage by the covert ops of the empire. What I got was a older version of what the empire's covert ops used to prevent being brainwashed or scanned, but it did its job (hopefully). IPI-6 was in case they used magic in front of me with full incantations or the like (so that I can steal them and use them for myself, if I can that is).

...And lastly, TCT-009, or Model 9 of the Transferred Consciousness Tranferer. It was essentially a brain implant that -upon command or set condition- captures a "picture" of the brain at work and literally transfers the consciousness of the person with the implant to whatever target the implant had been told to send it to. Usually, there was a designated Transfer Consciousness Centers in Core Worlds and some rich Inner Sector colonies. Mine was set to Mars- the Royal Palace of Mars.

I had that particular implant installed in me should everything else fail and death of my body was the only choice.

Did I mention that TCT-009, should you order it as a person of importance or on mission, comes with a deadman's switch that acidifies the body?

'Covert ops just love it, apparently,' I chuckled to myself in my mind. And why wouldn't they? The covert ops agents often have to risk death. To not have to fear death with one brain implant? Which agent wouldn't do it?

I mean, I just fucking did it to myself.

But … if this was a legitimate invitation, I couldn't go underdressed, now could I? It would be an insult to the host if I were to appear in my combat fatigues of all things. So I dressed myself in fine black widow spider silk suit, the most expansive of the new suits I bought for myself (a thousand credits! A bloody thousand credits for a single suit! I could buy a house on imperial capital with that!).

The alarm rang.

5 minutes til.

I took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

It was time.

…

…

…

"One invitation from the Bazaar."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When I blinked, I was in my office.

When I blinked again, I was in a opulent ballroom.

"Hello, good sir. May I take your invitation?"

I looked down and saw …

A goblin?


	11. Arc III: Meeting the Academia

**Chapter started being written as of 4/8/2017**  
 **Chapter finished being written on 4/23/2017 (LOL)**

 **Part 1: Meeting the Academia**  
 **Part 2: About the Academy**  
 **Part 3: Essence Online (a forum by magicals for magicals)**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
-AKAVON-  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I know it was rude for me to just stare at it(him, her?) but I did.

I later realized that even implants weren't good enough to resist mental shock.

On that note, there was a goblin in front of me.

A goblin, as in a fictional race that appeared in fantasy stories -some that I wrote but haven't gotten around to publishing due to being shoved into a hospital-, was in front of me. In fact, the goblin doorman here wasn't the only one. As I looked past the doorway and into the center ballroom, I saw dozens of them mingling with others.

I absetnmindedly handed him my invitation, and he took it. He checked something on it, and let me through.

The ballroom was a grand thing here. The walls, floor, and ceiling were lain with shining white marble, and each tile's rim were lain with gold. There was a distinct mix of Roman and Victorian architecture; the arches and pillars supported the ballroom from the walls and from spaced out pillars at the center of the ballroom while the trims of pillars, doors, doorways, chairs... everything, really, was decorated pleasantly but also asymmetrically.

I also seemed to be on a planet, if the white clouds on a blue sky, the sky shining high in the sky (visible through the glass ceiling), trees, and grass were of any indication. There was no structure like this one on Quentius, which meant that whatever transportation that took me here involved an instanteneous interstellar movement that did not invoke any sort of wormhole -because wormholes generate gravity, which would mean that everything around me should be a mess, but last time I saw, the ballroom was still quite undamaged.

I also noted the exits should I need to escape. The windows seemed to be normal, but I couldn't tell if they were bulletproof or not. The doors weren't locked, but I didn't know the layout of the rest of this mansion(?), so those were out as well.

'Crap,' I thought to myself. 'Really little exit, huh?'

"Sir?"

I blinked and looked to the speaker. Apparently, in the time that I had spent observing the room, someone had approached me.

The woman who did wore a standard butler uniform. The chest area was bulged, obviously, but her scarred face gave her enough leeway to look right in that uniform to not upset what I had been expecting.

I mean, come on. A serving woman is a maid and a serving man is a butler. You don't ust exchange that!

"Yes?" I asked.

"Your name, sir?"

"Ah!" I hah'ed before pulling out a card from my chest pocket. "Duke David Escher Senior of the Escherian Empire, my dear."

She blinked before taking the card. She read it once before nodding. "Shall I introduce you to the court?"

Court? Like a noble court?

"...I suppose."

She bowed slightly before turning to the ballroom. She brought up ... a wand? With a twirl of her wand, a chime, loud yet gentle, rang throughout the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been some time since our court of the imperial magicians have not had a new prominent member of the empire join us. Tonight," there was a dramatic pause. "This changes. Entering now, Duke David Escher Senior of the Escherian Empire!"

Suddenly, to my shock, there was an applause. Enthusiastic applause at that, too.

I nodded respectfully to the crowd as I entered, taking small steps down the walkway that led to the main area of the ballroom from the tall double white doors. My action, whatever it is that I did, somehow garnered a bigger applause.

I would have to ask this later.

"My lord," someone came up to me. "Count Joseph Ayyuthai." I smiled, and shook his hand. He seemed surprised.

"How do you do?"

Someone else came up. Then someone else.

For the next hour, I found myself just talking, exchanging greetings with men and women, young and old, experienced and naive. There were people of all races; humans were the norm, but there were also dwarves, goblins, and thin and tall aliens.

And then I was finally left to my devices. Oh, I knew that people were watching me. This was the norm of balls like these, but at least I could now approach groups, ask my own questions, and just enjoy myself.

This also left me at a dilemma.

My experiences as a general of the Royal Army taught me a few things.

One, no matter what organization, there were bound to be factions. Even in a political party, there were factions, and factions within those factions, and cliches within those inside-factions.

Two, people were fickle in events like this. Who I approached mattered, whether I knew them or not. While some individuals could accept my ignorance, groups as a whole might not be so eager to simply accept my excuse, whatever thye may be. Something similar happened the first time I became a colonel and "joined" the "wrong" faction -all I really did was share a drink with a friend, for fuck's sake-, and got my direct superior antagonistic with me.

Third, fresh meat like myself were very likely to be taken advantage of.

My experience, thankfully, also gave me an option to avoid all of those. However, it would also put me in a disadvantage...

I considered my options before nodding to myself mentally. I approached the butler(ess?) who introduced me to the ball. "Miss?"

"Yes, my lord?" she looked surprised.

"I would like to make an announcement... Is it alright, or even norm, to ask you to gather everyone's attention?" I asked politely with a smile.

To my surprise, she looked surprised. She looked over her shoulder, out of the ballroom. She saw no one there, and stared back at me. "It is the norm to ask the head butler this, my lord. Of course, milord."

So she was the head butler(ess?)? Didn't expect that. Most of the time, they were in the kitchens and whatnot rushing everyone, metaphorically.

Again, she pulled out her wand, and let out a chime.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Duke David has an announcement to make."

I didn't speak immediately. I allowed the audience to gather their thoughts and allow questions to rise up in their minds.

I clapped my hand once with a smile. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen," I started. "As I have been introduced to you before, I am Duke David Escher Senior. For those of you in the know, I've been sleeping for the past six hundred years." I didn't stop at the confused looks the crowd had. "And I've only been a magician for ... a grand total of three months."

That ... gave me a good reaction.

The ones with less experience -or brains that plot for that matter- were gawking at me in shock.

Those who were giving me contemplating looks? They were either the crafty ones or the leaders.

"As such, you can probably guess that when I got an invitation to the Bazaar, I was extremely confused, surprised, and paranoid. I knew nothing about the magical societies. I came to learn. So I would like someone to help me. Of course, they will receive their just favors from myself."

The crafty ones were on the move as soon as "help" came out of my mouth, but oddly enough, it was the butler(ess?) who caught my attention first.

"?" I looked to her when she made her prescence known with her cough.

"The Headmaster of the Academia has been expecting your question, though he had been expecting you to be more ... discreet about it, my lord."

This stopped the others from approaching, and a round of chuckles rang out.

I laughed too. "Yes, you would expect someone of my position to be more discreet. Unfortunately, I'm a general before I am a noble; we hardly do discreet. In fact, we leave that to the spooks."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The butleress (I decided that was just going by that word would be the best) led be out of the ballroom. Just like the ballroom, the halls of this mansion was lain with gold, marble, and top quality art and statues. Some were recognizable like the ivory busts of people. Others weren't like some sort of twisted modern art.

Finally, we approached a door, and the butleress knocked on it once.

"Master, I've escorted Duke of Freyr."

There was a crash, a fumble, clothes being ruffled, and then the door opened.

On the other side of the doorway was a young woman, or seemed to be.

The woman in question seemed young with her blonde hair, green eyes, and little freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. The scarcity of those freckles made her look more attractive. Her figure was not perfect, but Katerina's figure wasn't perfect either. She was someone I would expect to be in college or university. She even had a little nerdy look to her with her glasses.

'But then they have magic. I doubt it's hard to make themselves look younger than they are,' I thought to myself. I nodded mentally to myself for that logic, and then entered the room as the lady gestured for me to do so with a wide gesture of her left arm into the room.

I took measured steps while my bionic eyes recorded everything in conjunction with my IPI-6 implant working overtime to memorize faces -not that they haven't been recording or memorizing until now, because I now had more than a hundred faces to check over the web once I get back.

The room itself was different from the marble and gold hall outside. It looked extremely homely with the glass window with wooden frame showing a vegetable garden, wooden floor, thick wooden table and chairs, kitchen utensils, and white bumpy walls.

Something I would expect from a 15th century German or Bavarian farmhouse.

Did I teleport again, this time by a doorway?

Also, nothing in this room suggested that the woman in front of me was a magician. I'd come in expecting at least an office... not to be on Earth.

"Is that an illusion?" I asked her as I gestured to the windows.

She didn't look away. In fact, she didn't answer.

Then, all of a sudden, my Anti-Electronic Warfare implant kicked in, alerting me via a headache that something or someone was trying to get inside my head, either by electronic means or drugs. My head was neither cold (electronic) or hot (drug), which meant that the AEW implant didn't know what was attacking me.

"Get out of my head," I hissed.

She looked surprised before the headache receded and the implant gave me an internal bleep to tell me that I was clean.

"My apologies," she replied. "I needed to make sure that you weren't some kind of spy."

I frowned. "Don't do it again."

She nodded. Both of us knew that I had no means of enforcing my demand -yet- but as a "gracious" host, she accepted.

"First off, let me apologize again for intruding your mind. It won't happen again."

I didn't reply and allowed my glowering face to speak for me.

"Second, no."

"No?"

"Those windows are actual windows. You're on Mars right now."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's ... surprising."

"You were previously on the colony of Vale when you were meeting people and in the hall."

"So I did teleport again by the doorway."

Vale was one of the more important Core Worlds of the Escherian Empire. It was the agriworld of the empire, producing enough food to feed half of the imperial Core Worlds by itself.

"You suspected?"

"I realized that magic is bullshit within the first page of what few instruction I did get. I kept my mind open to all things that could be, couldn't be, and may be impossible."

"As expected of the Bloody Brigadier. You really are a sharp man."

"So you know that I'm ...?"

"That you have been dead for some time? Yes."

I nodded.

"Considering that I was one of the few children you saved to earn that title."

I did a spit-take.

"Remember 'little Lisa'?" she smiled.

"... You're 700 years old."

She pouted. "Way to mention a lady's age. Please don't spread that around. I like to keep people guessing."

"How?"

"Magic is bullshit, didn't you say, general?" she chuckled. "Or is it duke now?"

"Either is fine," I replied.

"General Escher, it is then, unless you don't mind if I call you by your first name...?"

"I'm not quite comfortable with it. Yet."

"Of course."

"So ... Lisa."

"Yes?"

"Did you invite me to this Bazaar?"

"I did."

"Why?"

Now, it was unsafe being open with an unknown. It went against the very nature of human instinct. Humans fear the unknown, and the learned men and women fear the unknown even more -even if some of them get their willys in the nillys from it. However, I told myself that perhaps I could be open with Lisa.

Little Lisa, I named her. She was one of the nine children -among a crowd of thirty- that I saved in a concentration camp. She had been born there, unfortunately, from a Jewish mother and a Nazi rapist. Her mother had died less than a week before I arrived at her camp, and she had been scheduled to be "removed" before I got there.

Surprise, surprise. I got to the camp before they could carry out their orders.

Then, I went and earned my nickname.

Little Lisa had been the mascot of the 17th Avenging Battalion of the Royal Army. Such a stubborn child that she was, she refused to leave the battalion after we freed her and others from the concentration camp. When we tried to ship her to isles, she hid inside a crate that remained with us.

She disappeared after the 50's, but I hadn't exactly forgotten her.

"Where did you go?"

The full question was obvious to the both of us.

"I got accepted into a wizarding school called Hogwarts. It's actually thanks to you that I got there."

"What do you mean?"

She smiled sadly. "You brought me to Britain, remember?"

I nodded. "I'm guessing then, that this Hogwarts only accepted people from Britain?"

She nodded.

"Then what?"

"I got myself stuck in time bubble, and couldn't leave it until 2011."

"... You mean to tell me that you were frozen in time for nearly fifty years?"

"Closer to forty, but yes."

"I'm going to go and guess that you were as clumsy then as you were clumsy when you were with the 17th."

She giggled.

Well, that answered my question.

"So, what now?"

She grew serious. "It is an honor, Brigadier Escher, to accept you among the ranks of the Academy."

"What is the Academy?"

"We're magicians, wizards, witches, and magi based in Escherian Empire. Our history is shorter than that of the Association, the dominating magical organization on Earth, but we're no less powerful. Our aim is to keep the mundanes, or the normals, from being harmfully affected by the magicals and vice versa."

"Normals hurting magicals when you can throw fireballs?"

"Witch hunt is a real thing to us magicals, general."

"Right." Touchy topic, I instantly recognized.

"Deforestation also killed off magical species."

"So you guys have that issue too."

She smiled again. "Outside of being able to use magic, the magicals and normals aren't that different."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

In the end, she gave me a slip of paper and a bronze medallion. They apparently signified my position as an associate of the Academy. I was not a member, but I was looked upon favorably by the members of the Academy. The reason for "gifting" me with such a status was because I was a duke.

Now, the Academy was bound by laws of the normals as well because unlike the Association that tried to limit the contact between the magicals and the normals, the Academy integrated themselves into the norms of society -when they weren't together researching magic. This has resulted in Academy's members being citizens of the empire, and thus if they wanted to open up labs and whatnot, they had to get permission from the landlords, aka the nobles.

As a duke, I was a potential ally of theirs. Due to nobles asking a lot of questions about the labs magicals wanted to set up (unless there was a lot of bribe involved), it was hard to set up labs and living spaces where they could freely use magic. But if I were to grant the right to set up their workshops, labs, cities, or whatever, then they could move about freely.

Of course, I gladly agreed to do so.

They, of course, did not know that I was already planning to out the magical society to anyone and everyone.

I also got to ask Lisa about my magic.

She seemed surprised I was able to perform magic without instruction. I didn't show her the journal that I learned from, but I did show her the two spells I developed. She told me that magic worked pretty much like a muscle within magical beings, which meant that I had to wait some time for my "magical muscles" to get used to the spells I used before I could learn new ones. It was also harder to "maintain" a list of spells without a medium like wand or staff.

The way it was described to me was a comparison between the body and another body overlapping one another with one soul (which they did confirm existed). The way I saw it was slowly growing bank of magic/spells that took time to allow for a new slot of spell.

Oh. Also, there apparently was a website that bought and sold magical items. I just couldn't find it. Go figure.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

History and Structure of the Academy, and the Department of Esoteric Arts

The Academy was formed from the exiles from the Association. They are the magicals who wanted to explore, and had to leave the Association to do so. The Association was, at the time, an extremely restricting group of magical nations on Earth that wanted to keep any and all magicals on the planet.

The Academy challenged this. They possessed the same desire to explore as their mundane counterparts. So they left in droves to places that the Association could not touch. First, it was Luna, and then to Mars.

It was at Mars that the 4th headmaster of the Academy approached the King Jonathan II. He proposed that the Academy serve as the Kingdom's line of magical defense, and in return, the magicals would be free to do as they please where their landlords allowed them to.

King Jonathan II agreed, mostly in part because his own father was a wizard and his third and fourth children were magicals as well.

This began the relatively unknown Landlord Doctrine. It's an actual law that's shoved in the corner of the Escherian Empire's now vast laws and constitution, because it was designed specifically to stay out of the eyes of the normals.

The Academy thus became a powerful entity with the backing of the most powerful interstellar empire (at the time). They openly challenged the Association's dominance over the magicals, and managed to win the dominance over magicals outside of Earth and Systems Alliance.

The Academy is divided into Departments. Each department focuses on a specific area of magic. Each department is then divided into Sections, which divides the department's specialty even farther. Unlike the departments, Sections are temporarily existence that come and go with researches as Sections are founded with a research, and thus disbands when the research ends.

Currently, the Academy has 51 Departments. The most powerful of these are the following: Magical Biology, Magical Chemistry and Potions, Alchemy, Healer's Banner, Elementalist's Staff, and Esoteric Arts.

The oddest of them all is Esoteric Arts. They are the most militant of the non-combative Departments because their focus is on deities and the formation of deities. They have discovered that if enough people believe in a god or an esoteric idea, whether this god/idea existed before their belief, that god comes into existence and grows stronger with each belief or acknowledgement of the idea. These deities can be divided into five categories: local, regional, national, continental, and interstellar.

So far, there is only one interstellar that hte Department of Esoteric Arts fears above all, and he favors the Christians. Guess who?

However, instead of worshiping these deities, the Department of Esoteric Arts have devoted themselves to the cannibalization of deities to serve the needs of the magicals. In essence, they go out to hunt new deities, destroy them, and harvest their parts for use in other magical arts.

Yes. The Department of Esoteric Arts is a department of god-killers.

Welcome to Essence Online message boards.

Hi again, **Cougar331**

/=\

 **You're reading: Academy Board - Discussion - Academy Newcomer Discussion by Seniors Topic**

 **Topic: New noble among the Academy, the Duke of Freyr**

 **Fire889** (Original Poster)  
(Veteran Member)(August 3rd, 2692)

So, hooray! We have a new noble in our ranks!

 **Jajafafa**  
(August 3rd, 2692)

Really? Did he say anything about landlording?

 **UnifingPower**  
(August 3rd, 2692)

He's a complete newb at being a mage. Made a big fool of himself at the big wig's gathering. Outted himself as a newbie too. What the fuck was he thinking?

 **BloodMagicKing**  
(August 3rd, 2692)

I think he's really new to the scene.

 **UnifingPower**  
(August 3rd, 2692)

Doesn't matter. Others are gonna come after him like a pack of hungry wolves sooner or later.

 **Fire889** (Original Poster)  
(Veteran Member)(August 3rd, 2692)

Guys, we should be helping him. The duke won't be likely to help us if we decide to fuck him over because some of you little shits decide that attempting to control a pyromancer would be cool.

 **UnifingPower**  
(August 4th, 2692)

He's a pyromancer? Holy fuck. Doesn't that place him in the 3rd tier automatically?

 **Fire889** (Original Poster)  
(Veteran Member)(August 4th, 2692)

UnifingPower: Yeah, it does. That's why I'm so excited! A new magician joining us who is not only a 3rd tier pyromancer but also a duke? He's gonna need labs to help him, and that means he will be asking the Academy for help!

BloodMagicKing: Yeah. You never join the rest of us for big meetings like the one we just had, but the way he talked just screamed "HELP, I'M NEW HERE!" But at least he was nice about it without being a blue blood.

 **xXReamTheMoonXx**  
(August 4th, 2692)

I wonder if he's lookng for a waifu.

User gained an infraction for discussing off-topic.  
Just no, Ream. You just got off the ban for sexual discussions, and you're doing it again? The next infraction will not be an infraction; it'll be a month long ban. -Cougar331

 **UnifingPower**  
(August 5th, 2692)

Where is the duke of anyway? I've never of Freyr Sector before.

 **Jajafafa**  
(August 5th, 2692)

It's out in the Rimworlds. Not a nice place, but the duke has been cleaning up. He has two fleets scourging his and his neighboring sectors. From what I heard, all of the pirates there got wiped out half a year ago.

And then he defend his capital and space station with only half a fleet consisting mostly of frigates against a battleship-headed Mechanoid fleet.

 **Fire889** (Original Poster)  
(Veteran Member)(August 5th, 2692)

Sounds like our new duke is a badass?

Edit: Just found out! Our new duke's a bloody royalty!  
Wikipedia link: [David Escher Senior]  
Apparently, he's been in cyro for the last 600 years.  
Holy shit, dad's gonna be shocked.

 **Cougar331** (Moderator)  
(Veteran Member)(August 5th, 2692)

I already am.

 **Jajafafa**  
(August 6th, 2692)

So Cougar is Fire's dad? How come we didn't know?

 **Cougar331** (Moderator)  
(Veteran Member)(August 6th, 2692)

Because it's not your business. Don't slip from topic, and you won't get an infraction.

 **Void_Lord** (Headmistress of Academy)  
(Veteran Member)(August 6th, 2692)

I can confirm this. Our new resident duke is older than the empire and the Academy itself.

Hint for those of you still looking: I'm younger than him.

 **Cougar331** (moderator)  
(Veteran Member)(August 6th, 2692)

Take it to your thread, VL

 **Fire889** (Original Poster)  
(Veteran Member)(August 7th, 2692)

Void_Lord: is the duke taking rent requests?

 **Void_Lord** (Headmistress of Academy)  
(Veteran Member)(August 9th, 2692)

Not yet. He's still in shock. He'll come around within the year, though, I can guarantee you.


End file.
